


you've become all that i've lost

by ViolyntFemme



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Abusive Relationships, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bottom Eggsy, Bottom Harry, Bottom Merlin, Bottom Percival, Canon Typical Violence, Come Eating, Come play, Dark!Harry, Dubious Morality, Edging, Eggsy/OMC - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Harry/OMC - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Manipulation, Medical liberties are taken and we are all going to suspend belief, Missions, Munchausen by proxy, NOT TGC Compliant because I started it long before we got trailers for The Golden Circle, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Past Drug Use, Past Sex Work, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Roxy/OMC - Freeform, Ryan/Jamal, Sick Fic, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Idealization, Top Eggsy, Top Harry, Top Merlin, Top Percival, alcoholism because it is Kingsman, all the sex, but I hope you will see that everything isn't always black and white or good and evil, domestic abuse, merlin/percival - Freeform, siince i wrote it there is excessive swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 106,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13406133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolyntFemme/pseuds/ViolyntFemme
Summary: Being a handler does not have the same sense of pride that being the darling of Kingsman, Agent Galahad, did. Harry feels useless with his shaking hands and missing eye, a feeling that threatens to send him chasing a bottle of pain pills with a goodly amount of whiskey. He is thrilled when he finds a new sense of purpose in taking care of Eggsy, the man he loves, when he comes home hurt after a mission. Harry, finally feeling like he is someone of worth again, becomes determined to hold on to it, and Eggsy, anyway that he can.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hepcatliz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hepcatliz/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by [this](http://hepcatliz.tumblr.com/post/155972134930/harry-hart-as-a-handler) post by [hepcatliz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hepcatliz) who was kind enough to let me expound upon it. While does not revolve around [Munchausen by Proxy](https://www.webmd.com/mental-health/tc/munchausen-syndrome-by-proxy-topic-overview#1) _completely_ , I still hope it fits the bill.
> 
> Before you start reading this, make sure you have read the tags, possibly even the MbP link in the previous sentence. This is a dark!Harry fic where Harry purposely makes Eggsy sick or allows him to be hurt, or manipulates him, in order to inflate his own self-worth. There is fluff, there is smut, and there is a lot of love between them, but there are a lot of parts that might be hard for some people to read. Just wanted to get that warning out there so no one is surprised when Harry acts like a manipulative or abusive dick.
> 
> This is 100% finished, and 99% edited, coming in at 10 total chapters and a little over 111K words. Updates will be as I do the last edit on each chapter, most likely 2+ times a week or more.

Eggsy Unwin doesn’t fall in love, thank you. Eggsy Unwin is young, single, fit as fuck, and it would be a goddamn shame for him to tie himself down to any one person when he could be out spreading himself around London, and now thanks to Kingsman, the entire world. There will be enough time for love and marriage when he’s old, like Harry _was_ , and bald, like Merlin _is_. 

Eggsy is twenty-five, and he has never counted the number of people he has slept with, only the number of princesses he’s bummed, one, but he remembers each one with a smile because for the time they were banging, or whatever, that person was _perf_. He couldn’t care less about gender, age (as long as they are legal because he ain’t a fucking pervert), weight, money, or occupation. He goes for the person, yeah? If they make Eggsy laugh, they are seventy-five percent to being in Eggsy’s bed, anyway. 

So when Harry Hart, all long, lean, and bespoke-clad, stood posing against the wall outside Holborn, and then took out Dean’s boys with a goddamn umbrella, Eggsy thought to himself _I would very much like to know if he would look that fucking suave with his cock lodged in my arse._ In fact, Eggsy planned on suggesting something of the sort when Harry sent him home to get a meat cleaver shoved in his face. 

Eggsy thought he’d get a chance when Harry took him inside a dressing room. Instead, he learned that he can hold his breath for a lot longer than he thought when provided with ample incentive, even if he would have preferred that incentive to be Harry’s cock down his throat rather than a dorm room filled with fucking water. 

His goddamn life, honestly. 

Eggsy Unwin doesn’t fall in love but he spends lunch times with Harry where he tells Eggsy stories of his daring missions all over the world. He works hard at every single task that bald fuck in the goddamn tartan jacket gives him not because he gives two fucks about what these elitist pricks think of him; he does it because he wants to make Harry _proud_. He never had no one be proud of him before but if he finally has someone to feel that way, Jesus fuck does he want it to be Harry. 

Eggsy Unwin doesn’t fall in love but when he watches Harry snap back like someone off-stage yanked him with one of those big fucking hooks he saw on telly once, watches his brains and blood fly out of the back of his head he knows somewhere along the way he _did._

So, Eggsy Unwin fell in love and he avenges that love with every single bullet he fires in that fucking bunker in the fucking mountain. Eggsy honors Harry’s memory by dragging that poison blade Harry told him about through that bitch’s arm who watched someone Eggsy thinks might have been the love of his life die on some piece of asphalt, and he kills _her_ lover with her own fucking leg, watching him choke on his own blood. He still loses himself in the tight heat of a royal arse because he needs just a fucking minute, just one where he is not seeing the Kentucky sun shining through a glasses feed that won’t move. He replays the last moments of Valentine’s life repeatedly in his head when he is awake because he has to relive the last few of Harry’s when he tries to sleep. 

Eggsy Unwin fell in love and now the first person to make him do it is rotting somewhere Eggsy can’t go and he will never know what started out with Eggsy envisioning him naked ended with Eggsy envisioning him in a tux. 

—————

“This is Merlin,” he says when he picks up the phone. An American is on the other end. 

“This is Kingsman, is it not?”

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” Merlin is already going through various protocols, putting a trace on the call with a tap of his finger and wondering what traitor they have inside _this_ fucking time. 

“I have information on Galahad,” she says.

“I'm not sure who the fuck you are,” Merlin says, ready to kill in an instant, “but you had better tell me what the fuck you think you might fucking know now. Because if you are aware of who _I_ am, you know I could wipe you off the map in,” his clipboard beeps at him, “ _fucking Kentucky_ without even breaking a sweat.”

“This is Ginger, from Statesmen. We're your American cousins.”

“I’ve never heard of Statesmen.”

“We never heard of you either until we thought to run DNA on our John Doe. As soon as I put it through the computer locked down and could only be accessed by Champ’s fingerprint.”

“Champ?”

“Agent Champagne, he’s the head of Statesmen.”

“Really,” he says, sarcasm dripping, “and where are Agents Whiskey, Tequila, and Gin?”

“Whiskey and Tequila are both on a mission and Gin is in a med bay. Anything else, or are you being a smartass for fun?”

“You name your agents after alcohol, you have got to be taking the piss.”

“Well, from what I read on our computer, you name yours after Arthurian Knights.”

“And speaking of Galahad? You have his body? You must if you ran a DNA test although why you waited this long to do so is a wonder.”

“We have _him_ , not his body. He’s alive.”

Merlin falls back into a chair, his knees giving out. Eggsy, who he had forgotten was still in the room, looks alarmed and rises out of his chair. Merlin stops him with a hand. 

“How?”

“That requires some explanation, but it’s all in the files I am sending to you now. I thought it would be best to call and introduce myself before I sent you random files that show that your agent is alive. Read them over and call me back, we can talk about how to get him home.”

“Yes, I will. Thank you, I’ll be in touch.” Merlin hangs up the phone and rubs a hand down his face. “Fuck.”

“Merlin? Did someone find Harry’s body?” Eggsy asks, his hands clenched in his lap. Merlin’s clipboard dings next to him. _Files received._

“They found him, they being Statesmen, Statesmen being the American version of us.”

“Him?”

“He’s alive, at least he is now. How I don’t fucking know. Ginger, the woman on the phone, sent us his medical records.” Merlin picks up his tablet and brings Harry’s files up on the wall so they can both read them.

_Alpha-Gel. Multiple surgeries. Unresponsive coma._ The words swirl around Merlin’s head. He will go to Dr. Gipson to discuss the plan to get Harry home. Discuss a plan for when he wakes up. Discuss what his will says if he doesn’t.

His breath hitches in his chest, like the first stirrings of a panic attack, but wetter. He is crying he realizes. When Harry died, before even a year had passed since James, Merlin felt like everyone he loved was being taken from him person by person. 

To have Harry thrust back into his life was the best sort of miracle even if Merlin had to feed him and wipe his wrinkled arse. 

“He’s alive,” Eggsy whispers, to himself it seems, before running out the door into the hall.

Merlin keeps staring at the files until the night staff comes in to clean the Table Room. 

After talking with Gipson, both alone and on conference calls with Ginger, they are able to bring Harry home two months later, when he has healed enough for air travel. Ginger flies with him, and once they get Harry comfortable in his room in medical, Merlin gives Ginger the tour of Avalon and spends a delightful two hours with her while the Statesman plane refuels and restocks for its flight back to the States. Ginger is smart as a whip and Merlin hates the two agencies didn’t know about each other before. Already they have discussed sharing tech and improving upon the other’s designs. Merlin’s head bursts with the heady euphoria of meeting someone whose intellect matches his own and having his best friend back on this side of the veil. 

After she leaves, Merlin goes back to Harry’s room and sits in the chair next to the bed. Harry’s head is covered in gauze and he has a gray pallor Merlin doesn’t like. His body seems smaller than Merlin remembers, or is it that Harry always seemed larger than he was? He isn’t sure, but the Harry in the bed looks like a low-toner copy of the Harry in his head. As vain as he is, Merlin knows Harry will throw an absolute fit if he wakes up. 

_When_ he wakes up.

—————

Eggsy sits in the chair that Merlin had brought in for him, or at least he assumes it was Merlin. Yesterday the chair next to Harry’s bedside was one of those hard, metallic jobs that made your arse hurt and your back lock up. Merlin had been in and out of Harry’s room all day, finding Eggsy glued to the chair each time.

“You know, Eggsy,” Merlin had said, sounding annoyed but being anything but, “they say a watched pot never boils, and after all these years I can assure you, a watched Hart never wakes. I swear that man puts himself into comas just so he can lie about and be lazy.” 

This morning when he returns to Harry’s room, having been tossed out by his collar, almost literally, by a bald, black, brawny nurse by the code name of Cedric, and then thwarted by the same when he tried to sneak back in, he finds a comfortable arm chair next to Harry’s bed. Merlin is a right prick, but he’s also the fucking guv and Eggsy loves him even if he wouldn’t admit it with a goddamn gun to his head. Possibly not even JB’s head. He thinks Merlin is fond of him as well, enough to make sure Eggsy’s parachute always works. 

So, Eggsy sits next to Harry in the comfy chair provided by Merlin or other magical forces. He plays on his phone. He talks. He strokes Harry’s hair back from his face and looks at the parts of Harry he can see around the bandages that cover his left eye and temple. And, like Merlin, he is grateful because no matter how Harry wakes up from this, Harry is alive, and that is all of Eggsy’s Christmases and birthday’s come at once. 

—————

_Gerald, for it will be a long time before his name is Harry, curls himself further into a ball as he reads in the patch of sun shining through the window. He has been reading this book for what he feels is_ forever _. It is not a long book, but he is given so little time to read. He pauses and thinks through his morning, making sure he has done enough to take this break. He had made his bed and tidied his room. His clothes are laid out together for the maid to wash and his shoes were shined by his own hand. He had walked the perimeter of his room ensuring his belongings are where they should be. Books alphabetized, clothes in the wardrobe separated by purpose and color, curtains opened and arranged just so._

_He had run the morning paper in for Papa, laying it by his coffee before he came downstairs. Gerald loved seeing Papa in the morning. His Papa was always so perfect. Each movement precise, even his clothes seemed to fall into order under his influence. Never a wrinkle, creases perfect, cufflinks doing their best to gleam even in the darkest rooms. Gerald would wait at the table for Papa to seat himself and start eating before Harry starts his own meal. Mother took her meal in her room and would be down later after Papa left. After breakfast he studieds his languages and maths with his tutor._

_The sun is so warm on his back and hair as he lay reading and it puts him to sleep before he realizes it. A sharp slap to his calf wakes him up. His mother towers over him dressed in her fur trimmed blue dressing gown, her chestnut hair framing her face in waves and her lips an angry slash of red. In her hand is the long ruler she carries in case she finds something that needs correcting._

_She always does._

_“What is this?” she asks, arms crossed as she looks at him._

_“A break, Mother, before I start on my afternoon studies and chores.”_

_“A break? What have you done to deserve such a thing?”_

_Gerald recounts his morning to her while she still looms, unimpressed._

_“Not enough.” She recites a list of what she expects him to do before bed as she walks away from him. Gerald follows her. “You must be useful Gerald, at home and in your future career as head of the family. People who are not useful are not wanted. People who do not contribute are cast out into the cold. People who are not useful,” she turns and leans down to look him in the eye, “are better_ dead _. You are no longer a child. I will no longer coddle you as I have up till now. Work, be useful, or leave. Those are your choices.”_

_She smacks him again on the leg, harder. He jumps and flinches back._

_Gerald is ten._

In his room, alone because Cedric had thrown Merlin _and_ Eggsy out, Harry jerks in his bed once and then quiets. 

—————

Eggsy kicks around his flat, if you can call something that takes up the entirety of one floor a fucking _flat_ , sock feet slipping on the expensive flooring while he makes tea and hums along to the playlist he has piping through the rooms. He knows it’s ostentatious but when he got his Kingsman pay, he went a bit daft with money and bought this, and a gorgeous three bedroom place three floors down for his mum and Daisy, within the first week. Eggsy wanted to give himself, his family, and his friends a place they couldn’t have even dreamed of back in the estate. 

He picked this for himself because it had few walls, and after the dark, enclosed, stifling atmosphere of the estate flat he wanted somewhere where he and the people he loves could _breathe_. One wall is floor-to-ceiling windows, and the others are rich, dark woods that complemented by clean, modern lines accented in cool silver. However, just like him, the posh exterior contains something less posh. Mismatched beanbag chairs surround a gaming station, comfortable couches and chairs face a media wall, and his sister has her very own Peppa Pig room in the back. Eggsy’s bed is in a loft area up the only flight of stairs and he loves the mornings when he wakes up to his mum and Daisy watching telly or Ryan and Jamal fighting over a video game. Those mornings he looks down from his bed, letting that happy feeling of providing for his family settle in his gut and warm him.

Eggsy, however, is less enthused about the place when it’s just him and the silence echoes. He sent a quick text to Ryan and Jamal earlier but they are both working. Mum and Daisy were out with some single parent group his mom has joined. Roxy was on a mission. Merlin was Merlin, and Harry was in a coma. He could try to sneak back into Harry’s room, but he was pretty sure Cedric could take him in a fight. The man is a mountain, he is, and Eggsy gets enough bruises when he is working, ta very much.

He sits down on a beanbag, burrowing into it with his tea in his hands. Sipping from his mug, he contemplates his options. He could see what he could pull, but he didn’t like bringing unknowns back to his and it seemed like too much trouble. He could have a wank.  That's a promising idea.

He looks at his watch and then picks up his phone, dialing.

“Hello?”

“Tilde, love, have any time for a lonely friend?”

“Eggsy, hello. You are looking for someone to be dirty with? There are people closer than I.”

“None are as sexy as you though. What are you doing?”

“I am going over some documents that my father is too lazy to read.”

“Sounds like something I should get my party hat on for. What are you wearing?”

“A pantsuit.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fun to be wearing less?”

“Possibly, although Gustaf, my bodyguard, will be scandalized if I undressed in front of him.”

“Why don’t you head to your room then? I am sure we can amuse ourselves for a bit.”

Eggsy hears her sigh and knows he has won. _Aces._

“Fine. I will be calling you over Skype in five minutes. I expect you naked, on your bed, with the dick of your choice and a bottle of lube next to you. I will have the same. Now go get ready before I change my mind.”

“I think I might marry you someday, love.”

“You’d have do a lot more than save the world for that honor.”

Eggsy wakes the next morning tender and loose-limbed, still seeing the gorgeous image of Tilde getting herself off with nothing but her perfectly manicured fingers and the sight of Eggsy fucking himself stupid with the pink jelly dildo Tilde had sent him on his birthday. He finds said dildo laying on the floor, in desperate need of a cleaning, when he gets out of bed and almost busts his arse when he steps on it. Grinning, he takes it into the loo with him and throws it in the sink until he finishes showering. 

An hour later he is out the door in his favorite trackies, a thermos of tea in hand for Merlin, and a book to read to Harry while he waits for the man to wake up. 

—————

“Gaheris, when I said ‘on your left’ I meant _your_ _left,_ not your right, which is decidedly not your _left_ ,” Merlin grouses at him over the comms.

“Yes, Merlin.” Eggsy answers.

“Do you know your left from your right, or should we have remedial lessons for you when you return home?”

“Oh, fuck right off, I was distracted by the shots flying over my head.”

“I suppose,” Merlin hums. “You’ll be coming to a door directly on your _left_ again, you’ll know its the proper direction because the wall on your _right_ will not have a door. Take the stairs up to the roof. Percival is waiting in a helicopter for extraction.”

Eggsy storms up the stairs, racing for the helicopter as soon as he sees it. He almost stops dead in his tracks when he sees Percival lift his arm, his right arm fuck you very much, Merlin, gun in hand, and level it at his head. The bullet whips by his face and is just about to pull his own when he hears a thud behind him. He glances back at the now dead arsehole behind him and jumps into the plane.

“Jesus, Perce, I thought you would shoot me for a mo’ there.” Eggsy pulls himself up into the seat next to Percival.

“Gaheris, if I planned to shoot you I can guarantee you would not see it coming. Please keep that in mind whenever you may think it is acceptable to call me ‘ _Perce_.’”

Eggsy grins and ignores Merlin hooting in laughter in his ear. 

When he arrives back at the manor he goes down to medical not only to check in on Harry, who is still sleeping or coma-ing or whatever the fuck the git is doing (being an arsehole is what Eggsy would call it), and to let Cedric or Morguase cluck over the bruised ribs he has. He debriefs with Arthur, who he likes a damn sight more than the last, with her long black hair, mahogany skin, almond eyes, and zero bullshit attitude. He doesn’t know if she _likes_ him that much, but he thinks she might respect him at least and that is enough for Eggsy right now.  He then heads to Merlin’s office to drop off the USB drive he risked life and handsome limb for.

“Welcome back, Eggsy, another successful mission. Starting your own collection of _Sun_ covers?” Merlin asks.

“Nah, that’s Harry’s thing, innit? I’m going for a more personal route. I go out on the pull after every mission and keep the condom wrappers in an album along with a number on my personal rating system.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not at all, guv. I am single, fit, and young. Besides it’s tradition now, save the word, get my prick wet.”

“Charming. How is Crown Princess Tilde these days?”

“Aces as always, spoke to her last night. We like to keep in contact, catch up.”

“I know, I walked in on that Skype session you were having in your office last month.”

“Teach you to knock next time, yeah? Aren’t we supposed to be gentlemen?”

“Gentlemen do not wank in their office with the door unlocked.”

“This one does, so keep that in mind.”

—————

Harry is lying in the bed for the third month in a row although he is unaware of it. He has slept through the second surgery, the first happening in Kentucky, to reconstruct his skull. He doesn’t know they had had to open his head up to release cranial pressure. He does not know he has a twisted mass of scarring starting at his white, sightless eye and disappearing into his hair. He does not know he has flat-lined twice since the shooting, once on each operating table. He does not know he will never be the man he was before he stormed out of the loo and boarded the jet for some godforsaken church in Satan’s Arsehole, Kentucky. 

For Harry his time in the bed is spent cycling through memories, dreams, and darkness, and even these things he is not aware of.

Eggsy knows the details of the surgeries and momentary deaths on the tables because he has read Harry’s chart ad nauseam, looking up medical terms on his phone, pestering Cedric when he still doesn’t understand, and trying to prepare himself for who Harry might be when he wakes. 

He sees Harry twitch and each time he thinks this is it, Harry is waking up. He calls Cedric the first few times until Cedric explains, with great patience, that involuntary movements are common in patients like Harry. Now, Eggsy just waits for a few minutes each time Harry moves and another small spark of hope die each times his eyes stay closed. 

—————

Eggsy, who is still smarting over the telling off he got from Enide, a lovely nurse who is like a mum only scarier, for being willing to sit in medical for _Harry_ but not for _himself_ , is licking his wounds in a grimy pub. He raises his hand at the bartender to signal for another pint and then hunches back over the one he is already drinking. He pulls his hat further down over his face and burrows deeper into his track jacket. This is far enough away from his neighborhood he _shouldn’t_ run into anyone from before Kingsman. He wants to be anonymous for a while. 

“Are you not going to order one for me?” He barely quiets his resigned sigh. 

"Wasn’t planning on it. Was planning on drinking on my own tonight. How d'you find me anyway?" he asks, turning towards her. "Wow, you look great, Rox."

She smoothes down the gray tweed swing jacket she is wearing over what looks to be vintage, and knowing Roxy it is, black cocktail dress. She smiles, her white teeth shining, enhanced by her red lips.

“Thank you, although it’s rather stating the obvious don’t you think?” she replies with a wink. “And you have to ask how I found you?” 

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “Why you slumming it with us plebs tonight, it looks like you had somewhere far more interesting to go to.” He knocks back the dregs of his first drink and picks up his second.

“I had a date with Johnathan.”

“Who’s Johna…” Eggsy’s eyes go wide. “ _Galahad_ Johnathan? No shit.”

“No shit. He’s nice.”

“Too nice for you. Great bloke, don’t get me wrong, and one hell of an agent. But he’s nice _nice_ , get me?”

Roxy shrugs. “He is, that was the point. I wanted to see if nice did it for me.”

“And did it?”

“Not at all. To his credit he gives fantastic head, but he wanted to stroke my cheek and tell me how pretty I am.”

“Wasn’t into you tying him up and smacking him?”

“I didn’t even try. He got me off. I got him off. I left to have a drink with you even if it meant coming to a pub where my heels stick to the floor.”

“I can make your heels stick to the ceiling, lass,” someone with zero sense of self-preservation says from behind Roxy. She turns on the barstool and gives the man a long appraising look, like she might consider it, like she isn’t mapping out the first four areas she will stab him in. 

“You think you could fuck me good and proper then?” Roxy has affected Eggsy’s accent, and it horrifies Eggsy to hear it coming out of her upperclass mouth. 

“I am positive I could. Make you forget your own name, I would. Have you yowling like a proper kitty.” He moves closer to her. “Name is Malcolm, but you can call me Daddy.”

Eggsy throws back his head laughing, almost dislodging himself from his stool. The man scowls at him over Roxy’s shoulder.

“Something funny, you little wankstain? Maybe if you could keep your woman here happy, she wouldn’t be after my knob instead of yours.”

Eggsy holds up his hands. “Nah, mate. She’s all yours. I could never satisfy her.”

Roxy looks back at him. “That’s the truth,” she says, cold condescension in her voice, before swinging back towards “Daddy.”

“Now, Daddy,” she says, all breathy and soft, as she opens her legs for him to step between, which like a moron he does. Her right arm moves quickly. “I was wondering how you were planning on fucking me,” Malcom’s face goes white and his mouth forms a perfect O, his terrified eyes on Roxy’s face. Eggsy can’t help but to wince in sympathy. Roxy’s arm makes a twisting motion and Malcom makes a sound that sounds like _eeeeeeeee,_  “when your little prick is lying on the floor.” 

Most of the eyes in the pub are on Roxy and Eggsy, but no one seems willing to come to Malcom’s aid, not even the pricks that had been standing behind him snickering, who now are standing behind him looking anywhere in the pub _but_ him. 

“He should apologize, Rox, for talking that way to you.”

“I’m… sorry…” Malcom squeaks out, the white pallor of his skin being replaced by a dull yellow. He looks like he might pass out. 

Eggsy figures he won’t be getting another drink in this bar so he finishes his second and throws money down on the bar top.

“Come on Rox, let’s go grab a bottle and get shit faced at your flat, yeah?”

Roxy lets Malcom go, and he does a slow motion slide to the floor, cradling his bollocks and emitting that high pitched squeak every so often. His friends still refuse to look at him or at Roxy and Eggsy. 

Back at Roxy’s flat, she takes her heels off and places her feet in Eggsy’s lap, which he is rubbing absentmindedly. She closes her eyes while she sips her drink.

“Eggsy, I will marry you if you promise to do that for me forever.”

“No thanks mate, I don’t fancy having Percival lop off my bollocks for touching his precious angel.”

“Oh, no, we wouldn’t have sex. I adore you, Eggsy but it would be like fucking my own brother…”

“Good.”

“No, I want you to be around to massage my feet. In return I will buy you all the atrocious clothes you want, and you can pull whenever you’d like, as would I.”

“So’s all I got to do is rub your nasty toes?”

She kicks him in the chest. “My toes are exquisite, thank you.”

“Yeah, they are,” he replies, admiring how her nail polish glimmers under the low light in her flat.

“So are you going to tell me why you were in some shit pub drinking alone? Girl trouble? Boy trouble?”

“Boy trouble.”

“Oh, excellent.” Her eyes sparkle. “Tell Mummy Rox all about it.”

“I think I might be in love with Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Harry Hart.”

“Harry Hart, formerly thought of as dead and known as Galahad, now lying in medical missing an eye and in a coma. That Harry. Your mentor and a man, what twenty five, thirty years your senior?”

“Yes.”

“I have to say I didn’t see that coming, but I can see it. I only saw him a few times when we were training, but he had something about him that makes you want to rub up against him. He smelled wonderful too. He walked past me once in the manor and I almost followed him back down the hall. Too bad for me though, from what I understand he's gay unless the job calls for it.”

Eggsy scowls. “How the fuck would you know?”

“Eggsy, Alistair has been close friends with him, _and_ Merlin, since he joined Kingsman.”

“Wait, _and Merlin_ , what’s that supposed to mean, are him and Merlin together?”

“What? No, I don’t think so. I’ve seen no evidence they are.”

“Oh, well that’s good then, I guess.”

“Does it bother you that you want Harry, is that why you’re drinking?”

“No, it don’t bother me none, it’s just I don’t know how it could work. He’s all posh and shit, and I’m, even under my Kingsman suits, just a pleb. And I _like_ being a pleb. I like my ‘atrocious’ clothes, and my accent, and my music. I like banging about with Jamal and Ryan, being lads, doing some free running, eating fish and chips and I don’t want to change any of that.”

“And you shouldn’t, Harry obviously thought enough of you to propose you so I don’t see why he would want you to be anything you are not.”

“There’s a difference between proposing someone to be a Kingsman and choosing someone to bend over your desk, yeah?”

“I see you’ve given this some thought,” she says. “I’d like to hear more about this desk scenario.”

“Oi, fuck right off, you know what I mean. I don’t think a man like Harry would want me.”

“Well, why do you want him?”

“I don’t know, Rox. When I saw him take down Dean’s dogs at the Black Prince I had one of the biggest hard-ons I have ever had. I ain’t never seen anyone move with such power and control before. It was like he was having a walk in the park. I figured it was just lust, yeah? That I would get a mo’ to suck him off or something and I would be on to the next person. But then I spent time with him and found out that he’s _funny_. He’s funny, and self-deprecating while being the vainest of arseholes, and a fucking _cock_ when he’s mad, but he believed in me and then I let him down, and somewhere during all that laughing and yelling and disappointment he got shot in the fucking head, died, and made me realize I want to see what his stupid hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning.

She sits forward and pats his hand. “Oh, Eggsy, you pathetic tit. You’ve got it bad.”

Eggsy sinks into the corner of her sofa, doing an odd combination of rubbing and hugging her feet to his chest. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. 

—————

_Gerald fiddles with the buttons on his suit jacket, uncomfortable in it and feeling like a giant prat. It is his father’s funeral and now that he is the man of the house, it falls to him to represent the Cheatum family. His mother appears in the doorway._

_“Do you plan on fiddling with your suit all afternoon, Gerald, or would you like some come see your father buried with the rest of the family?”_

_“Coming, Mother,” Gerald says, straightening his tie once more and turning from the window. His mother looks severe and beautiful as usual, her hair pulled up and away from her face in an elaborate twist. Her black dress is the latest spring fashion and her makeup looks so effortless it must have taken an hour. Gerald worships her and loathes her at the same time._

_He always has._

_She walks behind him as they move down the hall and toward the stairs. “Why he had to die now is beyond me. How am I supposed to present your sister in society if we are all in mourning?”_

_“I’m sure he did not plan it to thwart your social plans, Mother. Massive heart attacks are notoriously difficult to calendar.”_

_“Don’t be smart, Gerald, it’s unbecoming, especially when it’s someone as vapid as you are. After the funeral you and I will have a nice long talk as to what will be expected of you now that you are the man of the house. There are expectations,” she fixes him with the same look that made his knees tremble when he was a child, “and you will live up to them.”_

_His shoulders creep up to his ears, a familiar tension settles around his heart, and he goes cold and hot at the same time._

_“Yes, Mother.”_

_She stops at the top of the stairs, her red tipped nailed hand reaching out and snatching at his arm. “But for now you will go greet our guests and you will ride with your sister and I directly behind the hearse. When we come back you will make sure you speak to everyone. You must make contacts.”_

_“At my father’s funeral?”_

_“Yes, most of the people will feel sorry for you, a young man so recently lost his father. Jeremiah made money, and lucky for us, managed it well, but he could have made more if he hadn’t of been such a cold fish.”_

_“He was your husband, you loved him. You_ married _him.”_

_“Don’t be absurd. I married him because he was rich and he let me do as I pleased. It was a transaction. He got an attractive wife who could move about in society and I got a husband who left me alone once we had the two children we agreed on. You and your sister are bullet points on a contract, darling.”_

_“You are an absolute cunt.”_

_“So people say, but I serve a_ purpose _. Your sister will serve the same, marrying the right man and strengthening our name and power. You will marry the right woman, run the Cheatum investments, and keep me in the lifestyle I have grown accustomed to.”_

_“And if I refuse?”_

_“You will not. This is your duty. Remember what happens to those that serve no purpose? Those that are lazy and useless? They are cast out with nothing. How long do you think those little boy toys you think I don’t know about will want you when your wallet is empty? They aren’t fucking you for your personality.”_

_Gerald wrenched his arm out of his mother’s grasp. “You should know since it’s doubtful Papa was fucking you for yours.” He beings descending the stairs, his mother behind him, the picture of a loving family united in grief._

_The next day Gerald joins the Army. He doesn’t speak to his mother, or his sister who is a miniature version of their mother, again._

_Gerald is eighteen._

_—————_

Eggsy hobbles into Harry’s room and lowers himself into the chair next to the other man’s bed. He sits for a moment, grateful to be resting somewhere where it is quiet and calm, and _cool_.

“This one went a bit shit, Harry, I ain’t gonna lie. For about ten minutes I was positive that me and Galahad were toast. Literally toast, because the fucking prick who we was after had an honest to god flame-thrower and was lighting the whole fucking room up. But Johnathan, that’s the new Galahad by the way, they tried to give me the name before we knew you was alive and all and I told Merlin he could shove it up his arse. There was no way I was taking your name when I knew how you felt about me. 

“Anyway, Johnathan, the smart little fuck he is, somehow got behind the arsehole and put a bullet in the back of his skull. Got the fuck burned out of his arm for it, but better an arm than the whole body, yeah?”

Eggsy shifts in the chair wishing the painkillers they gave him would kick in. He sits quietly for a few moments, watching Harry’s chest rise and fall with his breathing.

“I sure wish you would wake up. I want to apologize for those things I said in your loo, for not realizing that it was a blank, for…” Eggsy sighs and looks at his hands, “for disappointing you. I want to tell you all the things I’ve done since V-Day. Merlin says I’m a good agent, Harry, and you’d be proud of me, but I would sure like to hear it from your mouth instead of his. There is so much I want to ask you about being an agent. We lost a lot of the Table on V-Day. Percival is the most senior agent, and he’s a mate, but he doesn’t exactly invite late night chats over martinis, yeah?”

Harry doesn’t respond. 

Eggsy doesn’t even know if he expects him to anymore.

—————

_Gerald falls in love in the Army. While he has been sexually active with men since the age of sixteen, he has not been with anyone since he enlisted. In the two years he has been in the Army he has worked hard and caught the eye of his superiors, and now they tapped him for officer training._

_It is at RMA Sandhurst that he meets Lawrence, a gorgeous man four years older than Gerald with pale skin, flashing white teeth, and eyes like the night sky. The first time he speaks to Gerald, he drops his tray on the floor. All the gentlemanly poise his mother beat into him, sometimes literally, disappeared the minute Lawrence looked at him._

_For some reason unknown to Gerald they become fast friends, studying, spending free time, and eating most meals together. Their high scores make them the darlings of their class._

_One night they are in one of their favorite spots, a clearing in the woods a small walk from the main buildings. They had been there since the afternoon having brought their books and packed a small meal. The food is gone, the books are forgotten, and they lay on their backs, side by side, talking._

_“Your mother sounds like a terror, Gerald. After her the Army must seem like a cakewalk.”_

_Gerald chuckles. “She’s a cunt. How my father married her, much less dared to fuck her, is beyond me. I would have worried she would put a knife in my back the minute it was turned.”_

_“Have you spoken to her since you left?”_

_“She wrote a letter a few months after I enlisted, letting me know that I was shirking my duty to the family, to her. She demanded I come home at once. I never wrote back. My inheritance from my father is untouchable by her, and I have no interest in the family estate or everything that comes along with it.”_

_“An estate, are you nobility?”_

_“No, just wealthy, not that I give a toss about it. What about you? You never talk about your family.”_

_“Not much to say. We_ are _minor nobility, hence my ease in entering officer training, but no money to speak of. I am the third son, so whatever money or title there is, it’s not something I will ever see. I figured my best chance at making my own way lay with the military. My parents were happy to no longer worry about me I think._

_“Look at us. Gerry with no title and a country pile. Larry with a title but little more than a pile of shit to his name. We make quite a pair.” Lawrence rolls to his side facing Gerald, props his head on his hand and smiles down at him._

_Gerald’s breath catches and his stomach twists looking up at him. He realizes he is in absolute love with this man, with his deep voice, quicksilver smiles, and cheeky winks when they are about to get up to something they should not be getting up to._

_Lawrence keep smiling down at him. In the glowing gloom, Gerald can make out the white flash of his teeth and the gleam of his eyes, but not much else._

_“Gerald,” Lawrence starts. “I…”_

_Then Gerald does the most idiotic thing ever. The most dangerous. The most impulsive. He rises up and kisses Lawrence on the side of his mouth, breathing in his cologne. Lawrence goes still. Gerald drops back to the ground and waits for Lawrence to hop to his feet, to yell, to hit him, to run for one of their superiors._

_Lawrence slides his hand down the side of Gerald’s face and into his hair, gripping it tight, before his mouth lowers down to Gerald’s. It is slow for the first few seconds, almost chaste, until Lawrence’s tongue moves against Gerald’s lips and he opens them. The minute their tongues touch they are grasping at each other’s body, their hips and thighs are rubbing against the other, and quiet moans float out into the night._

_Lawrence comes to his senses first. He stands, pulling a confused Gerald to his feet and back into the cover of the woods. Lawrence fucks him against a tree with nothing but a tube of petroleum jelly Lawrence has for chapped lips to ease the way. When Gerald wakes the next morning, his arse is tender, his lips still feel Lawrence’s on them, and when he gets out of bed he laughs when he sees a few bits of leaf and branch on his pillow._

_For the next nine months they are even more inseparable if that is possible. They still study together as neither of them are so stupid as to let their class rank drop, but more often than not those study sessions end up with them naked and pawing at each other. Gerald feels like everything in his life is slotting into place. He is a little over one month from graduation and he’s having quite a lot of sex with the man he loves. He is already thinking about buying a small flat in London for them, not that they would spend a lot of time there. As officers they would rarely be home, much less home together, but a little place that they could call their own would be wonderful._

_Two weeks later, three weeks before graduation, as they are walking down a hall together, Lawrence pulls him into a cleaning cupboard._

_“Risky, this, shagging in a broom cupboard.”_

_“We won’t be shagging, Gerald.”_

_“Then what the hell are we doing? Did you get a sudden urge to clean the halls?”_

_"Gerald," Lawrence looks at him with pity and Gerald feels as if he might be sick. "Sgt. Singerson pulled me aside today. He wanted to talk with me, see how I was faring. He wanted to warn me about making sure that nothing scandalous would attach to my name when I was so close to the start of a very promising career. He also mentioned that I might pass along the same warning to you. He wouldn’t want people to mis_ co _nstrue our relationship."_

_“He knows about us.”_

_“Yes. And if he does, others know as well. My family name, as worthless as it is, is the only reason we have not been thrown out on our ears for fucking.”_

_“We will be more careful. We graduate in three weeks and we can leave Sandhurst behind. I will buy us a place in London where we can be together.”_

_“And who do you think_ we _are?”_

_“Two men who love each other.”_

_“_ Love! _Gerald, you were fun, I will not deny that. Quite an excellent fuck if you don't mind me saying so.”_

_“But…”_

_“But nothing, Gerald. We will chalk this up to youthful indiscretions and when we run into one another at some officer do in a few years, our pretty wives on our arms, we will share a wink and a smile.”_

_Gerald stands, his mouth opening and closing, unable to process this sudden turn his life has taken. “I love you, Lawrence. Surely you feel something for me.”_

_“No, I do not. I am not_ queer _, Gerald, and I won’t risk my military career for the sake of a tight arse. You were fun, but you aren’t worth me losing my rank or my family name. If you thought you were, you are not as smart as I gave you credit for._

_“For the rest of our time here, we will continue to be cordial, as for us to stop speaking suddenly would draw even more attention to us, but we will not longer be alone, ever. My advice to you is to find a pretty, vapid wife to pop out a couple of kids for you. Play the upstanding officer and family man, and keep your love of cock quiet, and don’t fall in love with every man that fucks you, Gerald. Use your head.”_

_Two years later Gerald hears through the military grapevine that Lawrence died in a car accident. He goes to the funeral as expected of someone that was so close to the man during training. There he offers Lawrence’s wife, who stands in black, holding the hand of a little boy, his condolences. She asks his name, twice. Lawrence had never spoken of him._

_In his hotel that night he gets drunk and tries to remember how Lawrence sounded when he was whispering endearments into Gerald’s ear as he drove into him, relentlessly, but those are overshadowed by Lawrence telling him that he was not worth it, that he was not loved._

_Gerald knew this, but he had hoped he was wrong. He is twenty-two._

_—————_

Eggsy and Roxy make their way through the ballroom, Eggsy steering Roxy with his arm around her waist as she discreetly keeps their mark in their line of sight. The rhinestones sewn into the bodice of the jet black, taffeta and silk dress she is wearing are sharp, beautiful, and cool against his hand. Much like his best girl here, he thinks. He stops them at the bar, a martini for him, a vodka tonic for her. 

“Parker is directly across the room,” Roxy whispers in his ear while she nuzzles the side of his face. He turns towards her, wearing an indulgent smile, so he can sweep the room with his eyes. Parker leans against the wall, talking with another man, his hands making expansive gestures that almost cause him to spill his drink down two separate guests. Eggsy, since Parker is paying attention to only his conversation partner, takes a few moments to assess the man.

“Doesn’t look like much, does he?” he asks just loud enough for Elaine, his handler, and Roxy to hear. He is a tall weed of a man with a receding hairline, weak chin with the most wispy, embarrassing excuse for a goatee Eggsy has ever seen, and large, almost protruding, eyes. He does not look like a mad genius who, over five years, made a code that entered in the right governmental computers can knock out the power grid for whole countries, if not worldwide. 

(“It would cause a soft apocalypse,” Merlin says during their mission briefing.

“A soft apocalypse? It ain’t a fucking jumper, Merlin. It may not unleash zombies, but I think it would fuck up a lot of shit.”

“Yes, Eggsy, 'it would fuck up a lot of shit,' as you so eloquently put it. That is why you and Roxy will go to the party and dose him with a pen while Percival gets me into his network. That will destroy the code from both ends.”)

“Percival is in place, your turn, you two,” Elaine says over Eggsy’s glasses.

Eggsy and Roxy walk across the room towards the mark, under the guise of heading to the restrooms. Once they get close, Eggsy pivots, knocking Parker’s glass to the floor. 

“Dreadfully sorry,” Eggsy exclaims while Parker dabs ineffectually at his suit jacket. “Please allow me to get you another drink.”

“No, that’s quite alright.” Parker eyes him with distaste before his eyes slide over, and settle a little more appreciatively, on Roxy. 

“I insist. Majorie, be a love and keep the gentleman company while I get him a replacement. Vodka tonic?”

Roxy smiles up at Parker before taking the handkerchief from his hand and resumes the job he forgot the minute he looked at her. 

“What is it that you do?” she asks him. “Oh, that sounds fascinating,” she murmurs when he answers her. 

Fifteen minutes later Eggsy and Roxy slip out of the party when one guest falls to the floor, dead. Elaine cleans any bit of them there is off the security tapes as they ride to the shop in the back of a Kingsman cab. 

Merlin meets them when the train pulls into the manor.

“Eggsy,” he says, “Harry’s awake.”

Eggsy stops dead. “Since when?”

“Yesterday. We couldn’t tell you until you completed your mission.”

Eggsy runs.

—————

**  
24 hours earlier**

Harry fights his way toward the surface, not with gusto, no, just slowly and steadily as if he is swimming up from the bottom of a pool with unlimited air. He can hear a deep rumble to his left, a voice, but he can’t place it, though it sounds familiar, so he points himself toward that and rises.

Up. 

Up. 

He opens his eyes… no, not plural. Just one, the right. His _eye_. His left is covered with gauze and he can’t seem to move it underneath his lid. There is no pain, curiously enough, just disassociation. Pain medication then, and the good stuff. If medical felt the need to pump him this full he shudders to think of how he would feel without it. 

He clears his throat and turns his head just in time to see Merlin jump out of his chair. 

“Christ, you gave me a fucking fright, Harry. I have gotten so used to being able to get a word in while talking to you, I forgot you could do something other than lie there like a lump. Would you like some water?”

“Please,” Harry croaks at him and then grabs the straw with his lips the minute Merlin places it there. He raises his hand to push the cup away when he has had enough. His hand trembles. “What in the bloody hell happened to me,? he asks when he can.

“Valentine shot you in the face. Do you not remember?” Merlin looks at him with grave concern. “The Church, Kentucky, any of it?”

_God, the_ Church _. Of course Harry remembers it. Every single inhibition he has ever had disappearing in the space of one heartbeat. The anger he had felt listening to that disgusting man spout filth and hatred from his lips, the anger that had made him get up to move outside before he did anything he would regret, and then it became something he no longer_ would _regret._

_Blood sprayed hot and salty on his face, the impact of other people pounding against his bones, his high brain functions reduced to nothing but glimmering and cold decisions on how best to kill the next person. Gun parts to the face, lighter to the face, snap the neck, a bullet in the head, post through the body, one-two-three-dead-four-five-six-dead-roll up-roll up. Harry remembers the moment his head cleared for a moment, when his grenade went off, perhaps, and wanting that signal back instantly, and being overjoyed when it was._

_At the end, when he looked around horrified at the bodies littering the floor, it wasn’t because he had done it, it was because he would never know that feeling of freedom again, that feeling of doing what he_ wanted _to  do as opposed to what was e_ xpected _of him._

Merlin is looking at him, waiting for an answer. “Yes, I remember it. Why aren’t I dead?” He was ready to die when he walked out to Valentine, he was _supposed to die_. 

“Apparently, God loves an idiot, because although you took a bullet to the brain, you are still here. Something I am very happy for.”

“Getting sentimental on me, Hamish?”

Merlin stands. "Let me get a gun.”

“Piss off,” Harry manages a smile, forced as it is. “How long until I can get back out into the field ?”

“Harry…” Merlin sits again and scrubs a hand over his face. “We… _Jesus_. We aren’t sure if you _are_ going to be an agent again. You've lost your left eye. ” Harry startles in the bed, upsetting the small table Merlin had pulled over to set the water on. “There was cranial pressure and swelling, we don’t know rest of the damage yet. We won’t know until you are able to move around more.”

Harry lays back, stunned. 

This is his penance then. 

—————

Eggsy throws himself into Harry’s room without knocking or wondering if the man is up for visitors.

When he hears the door open, he raises his head from where he had been looking down at his hands. He has shaved, his hair is clean and combed in the closest semblance of his old style that is possible with the bandage still around his head and over his eye. 

“Harry,” Eggsy stutters out. He is standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame, still dressed in his tux, his bowtie hanging loose around his neck and his glasses in his pocket. 

“Eggsy,” Harry responds softly, “aren’t you looking dashing?” Harry looks back down at himself, a look of sadness on his face. Eggsy doesn’t even have time to parse why that look is on his face before he is crossing the room to Harry, leaning over, wrapping his arms around Harry and sobbing into his neck. Harry, after a moments' bewilderment, holds on just as tight, murmuring soothing nonsense in Eggsy’s ear. 

Cedric, the fucking battle ax that he is, kicks Eggsy out before Eggsy has even had a minuscule amount of the time he needs with Harry.

He squeezes Harry’s hand as he stands to leave. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning, yeah? I’ll bring your robe and slippers, and some of your books.”

“You have a key to my home?” Harry looks incredulous.

“Harry, bruv, I don’t need a key to get in,” Eggsy says with a smirk.

“Well, be that as it may, you needn't go out of your way for me, Eggsy. I am sure you have more important things to be getting on with rather than running about for me.”

“Harry, it’s no trouble…”

“Eggsy, I have to insist. Merlin can get those things for me.”

Eggsy leans down directly in Harry’s field of vision and places both hands on his shoulders, staring at him until Harry meets his eyes. “Harry, if you think there is one place I would rather be than right here with you, after spending every day I could right here waiting for your sorry arse to wake up, that that bullet did more damage than we thought, yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow. If you think of anything else you want, text me or something.” 

Cedric clears his throat.

“Fucking hell, mate. I’m going.”

—————

Harry stays sitting up after Eggsy and Cedric leave him alone. Before Eggsy had come in he was watching his hands tremble in his lap. He wants to think that the shaking will stop as he heals, soon his hands will be as steady as they were pre-V-Day. Merlin had filled him in on all the fun he had missed while bits of his brain dripped out the back of his skull that morning while he helped him shave and tidy his hair, but he knows in his heart of hearts the shaking will not stop.

He can’t tell much about his mobility. Traumatic brain injury aside, he has been in a bed for nine months, give or take a week, and it has taken it’ toll. He still wobbles like a colt when he gets out of bed, using his IV stand to help him get around his room. He hopes he can start physical therapy soon so that he can see what he can expect his new normal to be. 

And Eggsy. Now there was something he _was not_ expecting. Not that Eggsy wouldn’t become a Kingsman. No, even after he had made a complete arse of himself by yelling at the boy, sounding just like his thrice-damned cunt of a mother, he had decided Eggsy would be a Kingsman if he had to cram the idea down Chester’s throat himself, may the pompous old bastard rot where ever he lies. What surprised Harry was how Eggsy had rushed in and looked at him. Harry knows he was a little more enamored of Eggsy than he should be, but knowing that Eggsy was as enamored of Harry made something glow inside of him. 

And made him hate the decrepit body even more.

The Harry that brought Eggsy to Kingsman could have made a few discreet overtures and if Eggsy returned, them he would have courted Eggsy. He doesn’t care about the age difference, much, they are both grown men and can make their own decisions.

But now? Now that Harry has aged overnight from a fit man in the prime of his life, Kingsman’s best, to a one-eyed cripple? He wouldn’t even dream of trying to date Eggsy now, he couldn’t stand to see the pity Eggsy would feel for a man who was about as useful as a paper door knocker. No, now he will be thankful for Eggsy’s forgiveness and friendship. 

—————

Eggsy stops by Harry’s house on his way back to his own flat. He may have made Harry think he would pick the lock, which he does sometimes, while wearing his Adidas, in broad daylight, to add an element of danger to it, to keep his hand in, but he has had a key since before they knew Harry was coming home. At first Merlin gave it to him because Eggsy promised to clear the house for the new Galahad, a job Eggsy drug his feet on, good thing too. Ever since they knew Harry was coming back, it was now for Eggsy to keep it ready for Harry when he came home. Merlin assured Eggsy that they had cleaners on staff for this, but smiled when Eggsy snorted in laughter and gave him two fingers. 

He walks through the house packing one of Harry ridiculously expensive LV Kingsman bags. The “height of discretion” his pretty pink arsehole, the goddamn thing has K’s all over it. He may blend in with them now, but Eggsy will never understand the posh, freaks the lot of them. By the time he finishes the bag has a couple of paperbacks, some sinfully soft satin pajamas which Eggsy _did not smell_ when he realized they still held the ghost of Harry’s cologne, some toiletries, including said cologne, which again, Eggsy did not sniff, his slippers and the man’s knitting. Eggsy did not know Harry knit, but now that he does he had better get a fucking baby-arse soft jumper this Christmas. In blue.

He brushes out Mr. Pickle before he leaves, assuring the creepy little thing that his daddy would be home soon which Eggsy was glad of because that meant someone else could take over dead dog dusting duty, no offense, Mr. Pickle. He takes one last turn around the house, making a note to go out in a few days before Harry gets to come home and stock the pantry for him. Quick, easy stuff and tea because Eggsy drank all of Harry’s one day when he was lonely for him.

He also drank all of Harry’s whiskey one night as well and slept naked in the master bedroom bed but he doesn’t plan on sharing that story with Harry. 

Ever.

—————

Eggsy walks in to Harry’s room two days later to find him comfortably ensconced in the robe and pajamas knitting away while BBC plays in the background.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you knit?”

Harry smiles up at him. “When would it have come up? ‘Eggsy, my boy, would you like to become a spy for Kingsman? Yes? Excellent. Now tell me, what is your preferred scarf length? You see, I am a dab hand at knitting and I thought I’d make you one.’”

Eggsy laughs out loud ,and it seems to echo in the room. “It goes against my whole vision of you, you know? Gentleman spy, lover extraordinaire, terror of evil doers and sheep everywhere.”

“I prefer alpaca, thank you. It’s a dream against your skin.”

“Well, la ti da, pardon me.”

“It seems it’s good I have hobbies. I’ll have more than enough time to indulge in them now.”

“Why’s that? You’ll be out of here in no time, yeah? Back at it again. New code name, though, seeing as Merlin gave it away before we knew you was waking up.”

For a second Eggsy sees Harry’s hands tighten around the warm wood of his needles and something ugly skitters through his one eye, blink and you’ll miss it quick. 

Eggsy makes himself blink.

Harry sets the knitting down in his lap. “Eggsy, I will not be entering the field for a long time, maybe never. I've lost my eye and we are still ascertaining my other injuries.” Eggsy watches Harry force a smile. “It is time for me to retire anyway, to leave it in the next generation’s hands.”

“That’s shite and you know it. Even if you ain’t in the field, you’re still a fucking Kingsman. Fuck, they should make all the new candidates sit in a room with you for a few hours so’s they can stare at you and try to figure out how to be an eighth of the agent you are.”

Harry snorts under his breath. “Yes, I am sure I would inspire such awe in the trainees with my missing eye.”

Eggsy can feel the back of his neck getting hot. “I ain’t going to sit here…” Eggsy’s glasses ping. “Gaheris… Right, be there in five.”

“Off and away? I should not have to tell you to be safe,” Harry says, knitting once more.

Eggsy opens his mouth to tell Harry off for saying shite about himself. Harry holds up a hand.

“I know, Eggsy. Forgive me, I am still processing this. Go, do your mission with gusto and bravery as befitting a protégé of mine, then come back and tell me all about it.”

Eggsy smiles. “See you in a few days, Harry. You won’t even know I’m gone.”

—————

Harry _does_ know Eggsy is gone. 

He knows Eggsy is gone, and it is _eating_ _him up_ inside. He doesn’t begrudge the boy his entry into Kingsman, not completely anyway. He knew Eggsy was Kingsman material, and from the agent logs he read through on the tablet Merlin had brought him, Eggsy has surpassed even Harry’s high hopes. 

What he does begrudge is the fact he is not out there _with_ Eggsy on his mission. Harry had, besides entertaining thoughts of sharing a bed with Eggsy once he won the Lancelot title, entertained thoughts of sharing missions with him. He thinks that they would complement each other. Eggsy’s brash, new blood swagger complimented by Harry’s graceful and seasoned lethality. And then ofter a mission well done, the frame of Eggsy’s thighs complementing the long lines of Harry’s back. 

Now Harry sits in a hospital bed with a bandage around his head and knitting a scarf instead of running down an alley that smells of piss with a Rainmaker clutched in his hand. 

Who is he anymore?

He doesn’t know if he isn’t a Kingsman. Is he still Harry Hart if he doesn’t don a bespoke suit and deadly oxfords in the morning? If he can’t massacre a group of ten men bent on killing him without mussing his hair? He isn’t Gerald Cheatum anymore. His mother and sister are both gone, the former from old age and bitterness, the latter from a deadly mix of alcohol and pharmaceuticals. The family money and properties went to Harry through a complicated, meandering path of straw men and fictional heirs when Gerald Cheatum “died” in the line of duty and his mother and sister’s life estate ended with their death, but even if it hadn’t, Kingsman paid well and often. Harry had no need for the family name or money. Resurrecting that person brings back memories of a harpy screeching, high pitched and loud, and thin rods bruising the backs of child calves. Even thinking the name makes him sick. 

So if he is not Harry Hart, Bespoke Death come to call, and if he is not Gerald Cheatum, top of society, who is the old man who sits broken in this bed?

_People who aren’t useful are better off dead_ , his mother used to tell him. 

He agrees. 

He wishes he was. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry becomes a handler, Merlin and Alistair get friendlier, and Eggsy shows Harry how he can feel useful again.

A month later medical washes their hands of Harry. Harry allows Eggsy to wheel him out to a cab but declines when he offers to come home with him and help Harry get settled in. 

He wants to be alone. He needs to be alone because he hasn’t been for more than a few hours since the morning he was waiting, anticipation thrumming in his veins, for Eggsy’s triumphant return after the dog test.

The driver walks behind him as he approaches the door. David sets his luggage down, wishes him a good day, and leaves. 

Harry goes in.

His first thought is that someone has been cleaning his house while he has been dead and from the faint scent of cologne on the air it must have been Eggsy. He looks into the loo and sees Mr. Pickle, his coat gleaming and freshly brushed. The brush and an empty tea mug sit on the sink. Definitely Eggsy then. For a boy who grew up in the estates he leaves dishes about like he is lord of the manor. 

There is food in the pantry, perishables in the fridge, and upstairs the bed has fresh sheets. Harry unpacks, starts a load of laundry, and makes himself some tea. For a few moments he drinks it while looking out on his small garden, marveling at the fact that even someone tended the garden as well, although he thinks it was more Merlin than Eggsy. The only plant Eggsy enjoys is the type that comes in small baggies and _sticky nugs, bruv_ , while Merlin, for all his unfeeling tech he surrounds himself with, was a veritable fae creature who could make plants bloom by speaking to them. Harry had zero interest in gardening but allowing Merlin to come over a fuss at his bit of green behind the house made both men happy so he never paved over it despite his many threats to the contrary. 

He walks into the bathroom to grab the mug Eggsy left there and catches sight of himself in the mirror. The tan cardigan is the same, but his chest doesn’t fill it out the same way it used to although his shoulders are as broad as ever, if a little stooped from exhaustion. The lines on his face that used to give him character now just make him look old while the eye patch he wears over the empty socket and fused lid lends no rakish charm despite what Eggsy says. 

His hands tremble. One mug slips out of them and onto the floor. The other joins it after crashing into the wall. 

Harry cries as he cleans both up.

Later, after having a depressing dinner of cheese on toast because he couldn’t be arsed for anything else, and making yet another pot of tea, Harry sits in his favorite arm chair thinking.

He thinks about the pills he brought home from medical. One bottle for everyday pain, the other for the migraines medical has assured him will only get worse. 

He thinks about the lovely bottle of scotch Merlin gave him last Christmas and that he saved for a special occasion. 

He thinks about his sister. 

—————

Harry has been home a week when Merlin shows up. 

“I was wondering when you were bringing your lazy arse back to work,” Merlin says as he walks through the house, the engineer boots he wears on his rare off days clomping on Harry’s pristine floors. Years of familiarity means he feels no qualms about walking straight into Harry’s kitchen and starting the kettle. He rummages through the cupboard. “No Earl Grey, Harry?”

“Pardon me, Hamish, but I have been out of pocket for the past few months and I haven’t had the time to pop round the shops. I could go now if you would like, I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome,” Harry says with a scowl.

“No, this Lapsang will do I suppose.”

“Oh, that settles the mind, that you find my tea selection satisfactory.”

“It should. Aren’t you always going on about a gentleman’s duty to his guest and such shite?”

“Just dump the kettle on your bald head. _Fuck_.”

Merlin busies himself with fixing the tea, slides a cup in front of Harry, and then leans back against the counter as he drinks his own. 

“I am serious, Harry,” he says. “When are you coming back to work?”

“I have always known you were an arsehole, Hamish, but I’ve never known you to be cruel on purpose.” Harry says, looking into the cup in front of him. 

“I’m neither. It’s an honest fucking question, or do you plan to just waste away in here until one day I realize I haven’t heard from you in a week and have to break in here to find your dead arse in the loo with Mr. Pickle in your arms? You will have shit yourself, and Harry, we have been best friends for nigh on thirty years but I’m _not_ cleaning up your shitty, dead, bloated arse.” Merlin shudders. “I have no desire to be anywhere near your arse.”

“That's not what you said in Cambodia…”

“Jesus, that was twenty years ago, and we were _pissed_. Neither of us could get it up, thank god, so it doesn’t count. I’ll thank you to never speak of it again, I had almost blocked it out.”

Harry’s lips turn up in the faintest of smiles before he frowns once more. “I don’t plan on coming back. I can’t imagine why you thought I would.”

“You’re a Kingsman.”

Harry stands, gripping the counter with both hands. He is red-faced and shaking.

“I am? How am I still a fucking Kingsman, Hamish? I am no longer _Galahad_. I have lost an eye, I can barely walk without a fucking cane, and my hands shake like I am ninety whenever they feel like it. What, pray tell, would you have me do? Shall I scrub fucking toilets? Work in the kitchen? Or maybe I can dust in the goddamn shop because I sure as fuck will never be an agent again. So you fucking tell me, you goddamn idiot, you fucking tell me what good I am to anyone.” Harry’s cup goes sailing into the wall, and without both hands to support him on the counter he falls back on to the stool. “You tell me how I am of any use at all,” he says, almost whispering.

Merlin continues to lean against the counter with his tea, his eyes following the cup when Harry threw it before flicking back to Harry.

“Are you done, or should I grab some more china for you to throw? I’ll won’t clean it up, however, so take that into account before you answer.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I may. It’s been a long week and I feel like indulging tonight.” Merlin smirks. Harry glares back. He sighs and lays his cup down. “You’re not useless. You’re right, you will never be an agent again, but I think you would make one hell of a handler.”

Harry scoffs. “A _handler_.”

Merlin’s face goes stormy. “Yes, a handler. Is there something about being a handler that is below you, Mr. Fucking Hart? Because I have been one even longer than I have been Merlin, and I sure as fuck don’t feel it’s something to look down on.”

Harry sags even further into himself. “No, Hamish. No, that’s not what I mean at all. You know I have nothing but respect for you and your department. A handler, usually you, has saved my arse more than once. It’s just,” Harry swallows, hard. “It’s just that this isn’t what I had pictured for myself. I was Galahad, one of the most successful agents in Kingsman history, still at the top of my game at fifty-four. I expected I would die in the field, and then as I kept on _not dying_ in the field, I believed I would be one of the few Kingsman to retire. No time soon, of course, but retire nonetheless, still possessing all my parts, all of them working, with a pretty young thing to warm my bed.”

“Well, you have the pretty young thing…” Merlin mutters. . 

“When I stood in front of that church and looked down the barrel of Valentine’s gun, I was _glad_. I was glad to know I was dying in a manner befitting a Kingsman agent. Brave, on my own two feet. I was all right with it, Hamish. I was ready. I regretted I would die with my last words to Eggsy being said in anger, but who dies with no regrets? Then I wake up months later and I am this,” Harry sweeps his trembling hand down. “I am nothing now. A shadow, a ghost haunting my home. I wish the bullet would have killed me, and sometimes I wish I was brave enough to finish the job.” 

Harry starts to cry. Merlin goes to him, puts his arms around him and guides Harry’s head to his chest. Later, when Harry has cried himself out and wiped his face with his handkerchief, Merlin makes him another cup of tea, with whiskey in it, and sits him down on the couch.

“Are you ready to listen now, you daft bastard?”

“Fine, say your piece. After all you have a date with yourself and your latest Bad Dragon purchase, I don’t want to keep you.” Harry grouses.

Merlin’s eyebrows crawl on top of his head before he laughs, deep belly laughs which echo in the quiet house. Every time he goes to say something to Harry, he sets himself off all over again, until he is holding his stomach with one hand and wiping tears away with another. 

“How the fuck do _you_ know about Bad Dragon?” he says as he calms down.

“Don’t be absurd. I am fifty-five years old. I've been an agent for more than half of that. Between honeypots and my own off mission proclivities I have had more kinky sexual encounters than you have had fantasies.”

“I doubt that, I have an active imagination. Fucking hell, Harry. _Bad Dragon_. I needed that laugh.”

“I also know because the last time you were in medical, the time you burnt both hands with in that chemical spill, I accidentally-not-so-accidentally found your toy drawer. I commend you on your selection,” Harry remarks dryly, toasting him with his tea cup, and setting Merlin off all over again.

“Ok,” Merlin says once he gets a handle on himself, “you. Handler. Monday.”

“I don’t see what good I’ll be, Hamish. I know my way around a computer, yes, but I cannot do what you and your team do with them.”

“I can teach you that, Harry, and while I do, you can run missions with another handler as you learn the ropes, but you have something no other handler has.”

Harry glances to Merlin’s head. “Fantastic hair?”

Merlin gives him The Look™. “No, you idiot, you know what it is like as an agent. You know what is going through an agent's head when they are out there. To have you as a handler would be specialized training for all of them.”

Harry shrugs, still not on board. “And what does Arthur think?”

“She thinks it’s an excellent idea. She said she was thinking of the same thing before I even suggested it. Try it for a week, one week, and if you hate it we will figure something else out, agreed?”

“Yes, one week.” Harry waves his hand in resignation. 

“Good. God knows I need someone there to keep me company. You realize that after V-Day you and I are the oldest ones there, besides old Leo running the shop.”

Harry’s head falls back as he groans. “See, Valentine should have killed me for no other reason than to keep me from growing old with you. Soon they will put us out to pasture in the shop and our biggest mission will be to make sure we have the proper amount of thread in stock.”

“To hell with that, I will die in the middle of Avalon, on my feet with my clipboard in hand. They’ll wheel me out of there.”

“It will be weeks before someone even notices you’re dead with your personality.”

Merlin smiles and leans over to grasp Harry’s bicep. “It is good to have you back, Harry.”

“Do shut up, I’ve cried enough for one day.”

—————

Friday night, two nights after Merlin had strong armed him into agreeing to the whole handler mess, Eggsy lets himself in.

“Harry?”

“Ah, yes, Eggsy, do come in whenever you please. I would hate for you to buck tradition by knocking,” Harry says without looking up from his book.

He hears Eggsy trudge into the sitting room and then stop. Harry places his finger in the book he is reading to hold his place and looks up to see why Eggsy is just standing there. He looks lost, his eyes staring at Harry but not seeing him. There is a large tear in his suit, right where his hand presses against his ribs. His mouth is bloody and swollen, and he is swaying on his feet.

“Eggsy, Christ,” Harry exclaims, grabbing his cane and struggling to his feet. He goes to Eggsy and places his hand gently on his chin, turning his face up to the light. “Why aren’t you in medical?”

Eggsy looks to the side. “I didn’t want to go there, spend all night getting poked like I was a lab rat. I wanted to be home. Mum and Daisy is at gran’s, and my flat, well it’s _home_ , but I’m the only one there.”

“I understand. Some missions require comfort afterwards, yes?”

Eggsy’s shoulders lose their stiff lines. “I guess my mind couldn’t come up with a more comfortable place than here.”

“Very well. Since you won’t go to medical, come with me and I will see what I can do.”

“When did you become a doctor?”

“I learned basic field medic training in the military, thank you, and I have been sewing my skin back together with dental floss and a dull needle while you were shitting yourself and drawing on the walls with it.”

“That’s fucking rank.”

“Come now, be a good boy and I will let you hold Mr. Pickle while I patch you up.”

“I ain’t holding your musty dead dog, Harry.”

—————

Eggsy hadn’t known he was planning to go to Harry’s until he was walking through the door. The mission had been shit. Utter shit. Merlin had sent him to Argentina. The wife and two children of a highly regarded virologist, Dr. Charles, were being held to ensure his cooperation in developing a virus, and a corresponding immunization, guaranteed to take out a city the size of London in two days. It was airborne so once released there was no stopping it, and only those who had received the vaccination would live. 

Eggsy was so over twats thinking they could finish what Valentine started. 

Everything had been going well right from the start. He got in and got to the wife and children by systematically taking the guards out room by room. He had them almost out the compound when the head honcho of the group returned, and with him, a truck full of men. Eggsy did the best he could, he plowed headlong into the pack, suit absorbing the impact of what felt like to be a million bullets. He shot down three as he ran in to them before the rest descended. By the time he had fought his way out everyone was dead, including the leader of the group who took the blade in Eggsy’s shoe to the temple. He turned back to gather the woman and children back up only to see her on her knees in the dirt. The little girl standing behind her and she had the body of her three-year-old son in her arms. A bullet meant for Eggsy had hit the boy in the chest.

Eggsy doesn’t know how long it will take to wipe the image of the boy staring at him with vacant eyes from his memory. He doesn’t think he will ever be able to. 

He needs someone to tell him he did his best. That it’s not his fault. That it will be ok. While Harry was in a coma, he had no one to do that. Merlin is a mate and all, saving the world together forms bonds, but he can’t imagine going to the man and asking for a hug. Roxy is his best girl, hands down, and she is always good for a cuddle and a movie, but she is somewhere in Russia doing something that Merlin will only speak about in the vaguest of terms. Mostly just to let Eggsy know yes, she is still alive. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asks as he prods Eggsy’s side.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

Harry hums at him, neither pushing nor asking.

“A mother lost her three-year-old son and a ten-year-old girl lost her brother because of me today. Because I wasn’t fast enough.” Eggsy is mortified to feel tears spring up in his eyes. He doesn’t cry in front of people. Not even Harry. Crying is showing weakness and if Dean taught him anything, once you show weakness, someone will _always_ use it against you. But then again, this is Harry, the man Eggsy _loves_. Harry will never tear open Eggsy’s belly when Eggsy shows it to him. 

Harry stands, a little wobbly to be sure, but a hell of a lot steadier than he was when he woke up over a month ago. His left hand wraps around Eggsy’s neck and pulls him forward so that his face is right above Harry’s heart, his left goes around his back and rubs circles into Eggsy’s bare skin. Harry’s old man cardigan, which Eggsy loves more than he loves his winged trainers, is so soft, so comforting under his cheek and the steady _thud-thud-thud_ of his heart grounds Eggsy here, now, and not hours ago when he was dropping to his knees in the dirt, watching a mother’s skirt go red from her own child’s blood from her supposed savior’s incompetence. 

Harry rocks them slightly, almost unconsciously, side to side. “Eggsy, you are not the first agent to lose an asset during a mission. You will not be the last. This will not even be _your last_. The boy is dead, and that is horrible, so very horrible. But the mother and the daughter are alive. Charles will not have to make the virus, Percival got him out, and so you both saved millions of lives. Mourn the boy, learn from his loss, but also understand that you did your best, and you saved so many more people. I am proud of you Eggsy, so very proud.” 

Eggsy makes a small sound against Harry’s chest. Hearing those words tonight when he needs the most and deserves it the least is too much. He crumbles.

“I am a horrid man when I am angry Eggsy, and I have no excuse for what I said in this house, in this room, all those months ago. But know this, I was, am, and always will be proud of the man and agent you have become.”

Eggsy’s hands come up behind Harry, clutching at his jumper with all his strength. Harry’s cheek rests against the top of his head, anchoring him further, keeping him from floating into pieces and away. Surrounded by Harry, Eggsy comes home and cries for the little boys. One in his mother’s lap, the other kneeling in front of them in the dust. 

—————

Later that night, when Eggsy has taped himself back together with a few drinks, and Harry has escorted him to the guest, Eggsy turns to face him. 

“Thank you Harry, for you know,” he waves his hand, “letting me cry like a knob.”

“Eggsy, I assure you,” Harry answers, “you are not a _knob_ for showing emotion. Let it out or it will eat you alive. If Merlin had a hair for every single time he helped keep me together, he would look like Gene Shalit.”

“Who?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Before your time. Now, go to bed. Everything you might need is in the wardrobe and adjoining bathroom. I’m right down the hall if there is anything else you require.”

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have you to come to tonight, swear down. Don’t know what I would do without you period, Harry.” 

Harry looks at Eggsy, stunned by that admission. Eggsy blushes.

“Don’t mind me, whiskey can make me all gooey some times, yeah? See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Eggsy,” Harry stutters out. Eggsy had _needed_ him tonight. Needed Harry, the man with one eye, shaking hands, and a cane. With that a string attaches to his spine, goes taut, pulling his shoulders back and his head high. 

He was needed. He was, even for a few moments, _useful_. 

—————

Monday comes, and with it, Harry dragging himself through the doors of Avalon for his first day as a _handler_. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t show up so I would have to drag you here by that absurd hair of yours. It would’ve been an enjoyable way to break of the monotony of my Sunday night turning into Monday morning. Why don’t you go back home? I’ll be there in ten,” Merlin smirks. 

“Piss off. I’m here, as ordered, so let’s get this over with shall we?”

“For most the morning you will be paired with Islode, you worked with her before as an agent,” Harry flinches slightly but Merlin doesn’t see it, “so you two are familiar with one another. Your new code name will be Ryence.” Harry’s jaw clenches. Ryence, the King defeated by Arthur. Fitting, although he knows there was no malice behind that being chosen for him. 

Harry looks behind Merlin and sees Islode, her red hair drawing the eye, it being braided and piled on top of her head. When she was running him, he referred to her as his Warrior Queen, now he thinks he wants to slap her. No, he knows he does. He puts his hand in his pocket instead and digs his nails into his upper thigh. He goes to her workstation where another chair sits. 

“Islode, good morning. Merlin informs me I will spend my time with you,” Harry says with all his charm. 

She smiles and blushes. 

He smiles and means none of it.

“We thought it might be good to start out with you watching me this morning. You know what it’s like on the agent end,” Harry has drawn blood through the fabric of his pockets, “but you haven’t seen what we do as handlers.”

“An excellent idea, I couldn’t ask for a better trainer.”

“If you would like to have a seat,” Islode says, gesturing at the seat next to her. He lays his cane against the workstation and sits down, keeping his expressions neutral and interested. He knows Merlin looks over at him from time to time, watching his reactions, as Harry watches and makes mental notes on the job of a handler. 

When Merlin comes to him around lunch, he looks distinctly uncomfortable. 

“What has you in a twist, Merlin? Sand in your Fleshlight again?” Islode chokes on her tea and finds the intel mission Eggsy is on engrossing. Merlin looks at Harry as if he is trying to decide where putting his pen would cause the most pain. Then he smiles, which makes _Harry_ distinctly uncomfortable. 

“If you would walk with me, Ryence.” Harry gets up and follows him. “I forgot to mention earlier that you have another appointment before lunch,” Merlin states, still smiling.

“With Arthur I assume?” Harry says, suppressing an eye roll.

“With Viviane, a condition to you working again. You will go every week for a month. If Viviane thinks you need further sessions, she will let you, and Arthur, know.”

“I shan’t be keeping it, I am only here because you asked me to be if you will be so kind as to remember. I can just as easily _not be here_.”

“And then what, Harry? You’ll go home to your empty house, add more dead bugs to your walls? Go yarn bombing? You’ll stab yourself with your needles in a week. Face it, you need to be here or you wouldn’t have come today, no matter what I said or what you promised me. Go see Viviane until it shows Arthur you are not any more dangerous than you were pre-bullet to the skull and meet me outside for lunch in the maze in an hour. I’ll even bring you a biscuit.”

“I hate you.”

The hour with Viviane goes as well as Harry’s previous mandatory sessions went. Viviane asks him questions to which he gives the expected replies. She calls him on his bullshit. He calls her a frigid cunt. They both enjoy her excellent tea and agree that Mondays at eleven were the best time for them both. He inquires as to if she would be interested in revisiting how they used to spend mandatory sessions. She accuses him of being perverse while throwing her pen at him. He snatches it out of the air, missing eye be damned. 

She does not say no. He leaves as she makes notes about him in his file. 

After the appointment, he goes to find Merlin. He is exactly where he said he would be, in the maze, tucked into the farthest right-hand corner dead end where he and Harry used to go to get away from every thing and everyone when they were still the newest Galahad, agent, and Accolon, handler. 

“You’re not scowling so I assume that the appointment wasn’t all that bad, however you are not smiling either, so I also will assume that it did not go the way they used to,” Merlin observes.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Harry, do you remember the month’s worth of appointments you had to have two years ago after the mess in Sudan?”

“Yes I do.”

“So does everyone else that was in a mile radius of Viviane’s office. It sounded like someone was being murdered every Tuesday at half two.” 

“I was teaching her self-defense,” Harry says, lowering himself to the ground where Merlin had spread their meal out on something that looked like a cadet parachute. 

“To be sure,” Merlin replies, laughing under his breath. “How are we feeling about the handler training?” he asks as he pours Harry some tea and hands him a sandwich.

“I don’t know I feel any particular way about it yet, I’ve only been at it for three and a half hours. Trust me, Merlin, you will know what I think about it soon enough.”

“I am sure I will. I meant what I said though, Harry. You see being a handler as a step down from being an agent, but I see it as an enormous gift to the agents on the ground. Except for Alistair, every single agent can only benefit from your knowledge. While I hate that this has happened to you I cannot hate that I finally have you in one of my chairs.”

“I guess it’s good that someone is happy.”

—————

Merlin sits in his office, after most the day crew has left, reviewing mission logs, upcoming briefs, and the latest missive from R&D begging for money. He scans that over the longest. Statesmen, when they sent Harry back across the pond with his head wound, had also sent over schematics for some of their own technology. Now that Merlin’s people had put their collective genius together with those schematics, they have improved upon them, and since some of the technology saved his best friend’s life, he signs off on the budgetary increase without a pause. Arthur can take it up with him if she has a problem with it, which she won’t. He hears a knock at his door.

“Good evening, Alistair. Something I can help you with?”

“How did you know it was me?” Alistair asks as Merlin turns to face him, smiling. Alistair was in his usual slim fitting, single-breasted black suit which highlighted his dark hair and pale skin in a way Merlin has appreciated for years but had done nothing about. James had been a close friend, almost as close as Harry, so when James fell head over heels for Alistair the minute he met the man Merlin had backed off. Now James was gone, and while Merlin missed him terribly, although not as terribly as Alistair most likely did, his death, and Harry’s, also made Merlin realize that life was fucking short.

“A wizard never reveals the source of his magic. What can I do for you?” 

“I was wondering if you might have time for that dinner you mentioned last week. A new restaurant opened a few streets over and I am dying to try it.” Alistair could face down a madman on hallucinogenics with a machete, something he did just last week, but now Merlin can see how his eyes land somewhere to the left side of Merlin’s face and how his cheeks are red.

“I have nothing but time,” which is a damned lie, “meet me at the train in an hour?”

“Yes, perfect,” Alistair replies, smiling. 

As he walks out Merlin turns back to his desk.

“Dinner with Alistair, Merlin?” Harry asks from the doorway where he is leaning with his cane.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I could have done without you ever finding this out.”

“I thought we are best friends, Hamish. Shouldn’t best friends tell each other everything? Want to come over after your _date_? We can do each other’s nails and braid our… well, we could do our nails at least, and you can tell me all about how dreamy Alistair is.” Harry bats his eyelashes. 

“Not all of us plan on fucking our therapist, Harry, so we have to have our fun somewhere. Are you going to be an insufferable twat about this or are you going to wish me luck?”

“I am your best friend. I have been there for almost every relationship you have had. I was there for that unfortunate case of crabs in the late eighties and that night you got completed pissed and swore you would join the Hair Club for Men.” Merlin groans and drops his forehead to the desk. Harry walks over to him and squeezes his shoulder. “I will be an insufferable twat _and_ wish you luck. Have a wonderful time, and please, if you fuck him, do not give me the details.”

“What are you still doing here, anyway? Dedication to the job already? Color me impressed.”

“Eggsy is coming in off his mission tonight and I wanted to see if he still wanted to keep me company over dinner.”

“Hmm, I would say that fucking him would be preferable to Viviane, in my opinion. She’s a wonderful woman to be sure, but I’d be terrified to show my bare back to her. She has the highest kill number of any female agent on record.”

Harry’s mood instantly sours. “I’ll thank you to not even joke about that. Eggsy is a friend, nothing more.”

“Harry, just because you’re missing an eye now doesn’t mean you’re blind. The lad is infatuated with you. When we thought you dead, he was beside himself. He did missions, and did them well, but his heart wasn’t in it. He’d spend the night at your home, sleeping in your bed, and crying over you. And once you got home, we had to force him from your bedside.”

“Hero worship, or transference of paternal feelings.” Merlin opens his mouth and Harry brings his hand up in an almost violent motion. “No, Hamish, say nothing more about it.” Harry looks down at where his other hand is clutching his cane. “Nothing but a friendship exists between Eggsy and I. He can do better than a broken, worthless man such as myself. Enjoy your evening. I will see you tomorrow.”

Merlin watches him go and ponders if there is etiquette against punching a one-eyed man.

—————

Harry’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

_We still on for dinner tonight, Harry?_

As if Harry would turn down a chance to spend time with him even if Merlin pissed all over his day earlier. 

_Of course, Eggsy. Any preferences?_

_Nah, I am in the hangar now, got to drop by my office for a mo’ and then I can meet you somewhere._

_I will go ahead to Sartoria to procure a table then. See you soon._

Harry gets his usual table in the back of the restaurant and settles in to wait for Eggsy while enjoying the red the owner has sent over. He studies the menu, glancing up now and then to sweep the room, a habitual movement that he doesn’t even notice he makes any more. 

The clientele is the normal mix of London regulars and tourists who have come to walk the famous Savile Row, but Harry can see the lasting impression that V-Day has made even in this area of the city. There are other people with canes, scars, and other memorabilia of that day. There is more talking between tables, between classes. Harry doesn’t think much of it other than he thinks it says a lot about humanity that it took everyone killing their neighbors to get people to speak to one another. Another year and things will regress back to the way it was pre-V-Day. 

“Evening, Harry.”

Harry startles and looks up. He was so lost in his own depressing thoughts that he never even heard Eggsy approach. Eggsy looks lovely in the soft light of the restaurant, his hair gleaming and his camel colored blazer emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders. 

“What happened to the eye patch? I thought you looked like a proper rogue,” Eggsy says, indicating Harry's glasses with the blacked out left frame.

Harry laughs. “Quite. Merlin didn’t feel as if the patch gave me the same technological abilities as the glasses do. Personally, I think he hates not being able to contact me whenever he deems necessary.”

Merlin’s voice breaks over his glasses, “You damned right.”

“Piss off.”

Eggsy looks at him. “Excuse me?”

“Not you. Merlin,” Harry says, gesturing to his glasses. “Leave me alone and keep your mind on your da…”

“If you finish that sentence in Eggsy’s presence I will come to your house when you least expect it and destroy that collection of vintage doilies that you think you have hidden.”

"I thought nothing of the sort. Good night, Merlin." Harry reaches up and shuts the glasses off. "I suggest you do the same, Eggsy, unless you want him peeping in on us through you."

“He says to think about what he said earlier,” Eggsy replies as he shuts off the glasses and places them in his pocket. “What’s he doing anyway, going blind in his hobbit hole?”

“No, he is out, though it will take more than your limited experience in torture to get with who out of me.”

Eggsy smirks. “What I could get out of you might surprise you,” he replies with a wink. 

Harry smiles back and pours Eggsy some wine. “I shall keep that in mind.”

“You didn't say why you’re wearing glasses now. Or is it some big secret?”

“Not at all, Merlin just stuck his overly large, Scot nose in before I could answer. I am,” Harry takes a deep breath because for all that he respects Merlin and his team, it still is like a knife through his heart to admit this, “undergoing training to become a handler.”

“Are you serious, mate? That is fucking great, Harry. I wonder if Merlin would let you be my handler. Elaine is great, fucking aces she is,” Eggsy blushes and lowers his voice when he hears a scandalized gasp from the table near theirs. Harry stares at the woman until she looks away, looks back to see if he is still staring, and then repeats the process a third time. She does not look back again. “Anyway, I love Elaine, but she can’t hold a candle to having you in my ear. Fucking hell, I am asking him tomorrow. I’m his favorite.”

“Actually, I think Percival is his favorite,” Harry blurts before he can stop himself. 

Eggsy’s eyes turn sly. “You don’t say…”

“Eggsy, Merlin intends to spread me around to all the agents, except for Percival who has almost as many successful missions under his belt as I.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Eggsy says with finality, muttering something that sounds like _ain’t spreading you around to no one_. 

—————

Merlin fidgets at the table, uncharacteristically nervous for a man about to have dinner with someone he has known for almost twenty years. Then again, out of all the times he and Alistair have had dinner together, this is the first time it has been a date. He runs his hands down the front of the gray tweed suit he had hastily pulled out of his office closet and traded for his jumper and trousers. 

He straightens his tie and almost chokes himself. He loosens it.

“Is the prospect of dinner with me so terrible you would rather asphyxiate yourself, Hamish?”

“Alistair,” Merlin says, standing up, calling on every bit of his unflappable Quartermaster persona to keep from blushing like a school boy. “No, I was just bloody nervous.” He reaches out his hand, unsure of what to do. Alistair looks down at it, smiles to himself, and grasps it, using it to pull him forward until Alistair can press his lips to Merlin’s cheek.

“A handshake?”

Merlin blushes now. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Hamish, I could hold your voice box in my hand before you registered I had moved. I believe you’ll know if you are crossing a line.”

“You’d be surprised how well I can defend myself. I did, if you remember, train you.” 

“How could I forget?” Alistair answers, picking up his menu and glancing over it. “Some tall, older, dashing Scot with a skullcap and a menacing voice. I spent the entire candidacy turned on and terrified in equal turns.”

He chokes on the sip of water he was taking while Alistair smirks at his menu. 

“I’m honored that a date with me merited a suit, but I love the jumpers. I’ve always wondered what they would feel like against my bare skin.”

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?” Merlin asks as he sputters some more.

“No, I haven’t finished with you yet.”

“How comforting. Ah, just a moment.” Merlin reaches up and taps the side of his glasses. “You damned right,” he says while Alistair continues reading the menu. A scowl comes across his face. “If you finish that sentence in Eggsy’s presence I will come to your house when you least expect it and destroy that collection of vintage doilies that you think you have hidden.”

“What is all of that about? And Harry collects vintage doilies?”

“He does, and he is as protective of them as a dragon is over his gold. He says they remind him of his grandmother or some such shite, but I think it is really that he is just a fussy old woman underneath that foppish head of hair he has.”

“Galahad and doilies, a match made in heaven.”

“Indeed. Able to disarm an entire room of terrorists using only his hands and his knitting needles while lecturing you on proper lace technique. I shouldn’t take the piss out of him about it because he gets so defensive over the fact he knits, and it truly is a wonderful stress relief for him, but he bristles like a wet cat over it. Sometimes it's my only form of entertainment.”

The waiter comes to the table to take their orders, bringing the bottle of wine Merlin had requested earlier and pouring for them.

“He’s out with Eggsy? On a date?” Alistair asks, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. 

“Christ, no. He heard you and talking about dinner, came in to tease _me_ , and then when I mentioned Eggsy, he turned sour and left.”

“That doesn’t sound like Harry at all. He's never stopped himself from taking what he wants.”

“Kentucky changed him I think. He feels like he’s worthless, which is never a good thing for Harry, and he doesn’t feel he’s good enough for Eggsy.”

“I doubt Eggsy cares.”

“Agreed, but Harry won’t hear a word of it.”

Alistair opens his mouth, then shuts it and contemplates his wine glass. 

“What?”

“Well, perhaps it is for the best, for Eggsy, I mean.”

Merlin sighs, looking at Alistair, knowing he had been expecting a less than friendly reception for that last comment. “Maybe it would be different with Eggsy, he brings out the best in Harry. He’s more _even_ around him.”

“You know I love Harry, more than my own flesh and blood, Roxanne excluded, but we both know that Harry, despite his best intentions, is not the,” Alistair searches for the right word, “poster boy of healthy relationships. He is possessive and vindictive, and he might be the biggest alcoholic in the agency.”

Merlin snorts. “I don’t think there is a ‘might’ about it.”

“I often wondered if that is why you never took me out, fear of causing waves with Harry.”

“God, no. We were never romantic, and I’ve never worried about Harry and his moods. He is all bark, all growling over his food dish when other dogs circle it, but never any bite,  just pouting when he doesn’t get his way. He’s had a rough go of it, his mother was a supreme cunt and was so manipulative she would have given King a run for his money. I grew to understand Harry’s _tics_ , so I never held his behavior against him. I simply set boundaries and tried to get him to be a little better with each relationship he had. That one I failed at, unfortunately. And I _was_ working my way up to asking you to dinner…”

Alistair looks incredulous. “You were working up to it for _two years_?”

“Yes, I believe in taking my time with things that are important.”

He cocks one perfect dark eyebrow at Merlin. “Well, this does not bode well for getting my cock up your arse tonight, does it? Two years.”

“Anyway… wait, you getting your cock in my arse? How do you know it won’t be the other way around?”

“If it will take less than two years to work up to it, I am fine with that as well. What position would allow it to happen in say,” he glances at his watch, “two _hours_?’

“We can worry about it when we are back at mine,” he says while Alistair chuckles, “I was about to ask you when James burst into our lives. I saw you two together once, before you two even got together, and I could smell the chemistry. I knew I couldn’t come between that, and I am glad I didn’t. You two were _perfect_ for each other.” Merlin hates to bring the mood of the night down, but he figures they need to discuss James, Alistair’s husband and Merlin’s close friend, before things go any further between them.

Alistair nods. “We were, and I loved, _love_ , him like no one else.” He leans forward, sliding his hand palm up across the table. Merlin fits his own into it and Alistair squeezes it. “But it has been over a year, close to two, and James wouldn’t want me to waste away in that damn flat by myself. I wouldn’t want him to if it was the other way around, so I would very much like to see where we could go.”

“I would as well.” 

“You think Eggsy may fare better than Nathan? Eggsy has a backbone, but with his upbringing he seems ill-equipped to navigate through a shit relationship.”

“I didn’t know you were so protective over Eggsy.”

“He is my niece turned daughter’s best friend. She loves that boy, and he her. I am very protective over him.”

“Good to know. However, I am much more interested in getting back to the conversation that revolved around various parts of our anatomies touching.”

Neither are particularly interested in food after that.

Much to what seems to be Alistair’s delight, Merlin has him naked, sprawled across his very expensive sheets, with his cock in his mouth in less than two hours, barely, but less. He knows _he_ is delighted by the weight of Alistair’s cock on his tongue and the exhalations he makes when Merlin tongues him just so. 

Merlin runs one hand up and down Alistair’s thigh, while wrapping his other hand around the base of his cock. He revels in the feel and smell of Alistair’s skin. He waited close to twenty years for this so he is damn well going to enjoy it. 

“Hamish,” Alistair breathes, “Jesus, you keep that up and the night is over.”

He pulls off and looks up. “That would make you one hell of a shit lover, Ali, if the night is over once _you_ come.”

He rolls his eyes. “Get up here.”

Merlin does as he is bid, crawling up, stopping here and there to nip or kiss the body below him, enjoying how each scrape of teeth makes Alistair tremble. 

They kiss. Their hips move together, undulating as slow as their tongues at first, and then picking up speed until they are panting. Alistair’s hands pull Merlin tighter against him, while he fists the sheets next to Alistair’s head. 

“I believe,” Merlin says, “you said something, _Jesus_ ,” he bends and kisses Alistair as he does a slow grind against him, “you said something about putting your cock up my arse.” He throws his hand out and grabs the lube he keeps on the nightstand.

Alistair’s head drops against the pillow beneath it.

“You’re going to wrap your tongue around me, frot me into the mattress, and _then_ expect me to have the stamina to fuck you?”

“I do, but if it is too much for you, I understand,” Merlin replies, grinding down again. “As you get older, your stamina should improve. However, if premature…”

He is flipped on to his back. Alistair leans down to kiss him and then moves his lips to his ear. “I hope you don’t mind standing all day tomorrow, because I doubt you will want to sit,” he murmurs, taking the lube.

Percival kneels between Merlin’s legs while he squeezes lube on to the palms of both hands. The fingers of one hand rub against, and gently breach, his arsehole while the other hand stokes his cock, massages his bollocks, and gently tugs at them.

“Since both my hands are busy, old man, why don’t you be a pet and play with those lovely nipples of yours for me?”

Merlin does, pulling, pinching, and caressing his own chest. Soon he is mindlessly thrusting back between both of Alistair’s hands, fucking himself on those pale, elegant fingers and into the tight grip of his fist. Out of no where he feels an orgasm barreling down on him.

“Alistair,” he gasps out. The snug fist he was fucking into becomes a tight ring around his base. He trembles under the force of the almost orgasm. “Holy fuck.” Alistair’s hands still until his breathing evens out. “Are you going to…”

The fingers in his arse move again, slowly, this time stroking over his prostate with just enough pressure to spark up his spine while the iron grip on his cock loosens enough for him to thrust again. Twice more Alistair brings him to the edge. He’s begging by the middle of the third.

“Please, Ali, for fuck’s sake, get your, _I can’t, I can’t_ , get your cock in me. _Please_.”

“Now, Hamish, I want to make sure you’re satisfied before I come prematurely. I wouldn’t want to be a shit lover,” Alistair says.

“I hate you.”

“Of course you do, gorgeous.” Merlin trembles at the compliment. “You are you know, gorgeous like this. All your long, lean strength laid out for me, letting me control your pleasure, moaning my name like a tart.” Alistair removes his hands from Merlin’s body and looks at him. “Condom?”

He reaches, grabs one, and hands it over. Alistair puts it on and slicks himself, leaning over Merlin and lining himself up.  

“I’ve thought about you so many times, Hamish, and I can say you are even more lovely than I dreamed of you being,” he says into Merlin’s ear as he pushes in. They both moan in unison as Alistair bottoms out. 

For all of Merlin’s talk about superior stamina, the edging he endured/enjoyed a few moments ago makes him come all over both of their chests in less than ten strokes of Alistair’s cock in his arse. Alistair runs his fingers through it before tucking them into Merlin’s mouth. He happily sucks them clean as he watches Alistair lose himself inside of him, closing his eyes and crying out Merlin’s name.  

—————

Eggsy must have followed through with his threat to talk to Merlin because as soon as Harry’s training wheels are off he finds himself assigned to Eggsy with a huff and an put upon eye roll from Merlin. 

“Gaheris,” Harry says over the comms as Eggsy barrels through an Indian market place vaulting through the air like the gymnast he almost was, “please remember that Kingsman is a secret organization. Secret meaning that you should, when possible, keep from being found out.”

“Right, Ryence,” Harry’s blood still, if not boils, at least simmers at the new code name. “That’s why we’s got K’s all over the fucking place, yeah? Even the condoms have K’s on the packaging.”

Harry also simmers over the insinuation that Eggsy has found occasions as to use the Kingsman issued condoms, but he moves past it. “Be that as it may, consider it an order to _tone it the fuck down_.”

“Anything for you, Ry.”

Harry closes his eye, lefts his head heavenward, and prays for patience. 

He glances at the screen again to see a blur out of the corner of Eggsy’s glasses. All forward movement, which was coming at dizzying speeds while Eggsy was running, stops and Eggsy lets out a pained grunt. 

“Gaheris? Report.”

“I’m ok, just a knife to the side.”

“Galahad,” and now Harry doesn’t even care about who is wearing the name, “is right behind you. Stand down and wait for backup.”

“Negative. I got the little fucker in my sight.”

“Gaheris, that is an order.”

“Respectfully, Ryence, I could give a fuck,” Eggsy bites back as he runs again, each breath harsh and pained in Harry’s ear. Eggsy turns into a dark alley, raises his gun and fires. Harry sees a body drop on one monitor while relaying orders to Galahad.

Eggsy goes to the body, retrieves the small USB drive from the man’s pocket and glances down to where his hand is covering his wound. He leans against the wall and slides to the ground.

“I reckon I am ready for Galahad to come get me now, Ry. Tell Merlin I got the drive.”

“Galahad ETA in five, Gaheris.” Harry is torn between anger at having his order disregarded, pride at how Eggsy finished the job, and worry. 

“Galahad has Gaheris and the package. We are heading to the extraction point.”

“See you soon,” Eggsy says into Galahad’s glasses with a wink.

—————

Harry walks into Eggsy’s room in medical the next day.

“Oi, what happened to knocking.”

“Oi,” Harry mocks, “what happened to following your handler’s orders.”

“Come on now, bruv, you know as well as I do that sometimes you got to finish the job no matter what else is going on.”

“Don’t call me ‘bruv’ for fuck’s sake. I am not one of your small time criminal friends down at the local,” Harry bites out and then feels like an arse when he sees Eggsy looking down at his lap. 

“Out of all the people here, I didn’t think you’d be one to throw that in my face.”

Harry sits down in the chair beside Eggsy’s bed. “My apologies Eggsy, that was uncalled for. I do know what it’s like to make that call and now I understand why Merlin stormed into my medical room to scream at me every single time I did so.”

Eggsy is still looking down so Harry reaches over and takes his hands, slowly so that he has time to pull away if he wants to. “Eggsy, look at me, please.” Eggsy raises his head. “Again I can use the excuse that I am an arsehole when I am angry, but I think I will just say I am an arsehole in most instances and that I hope you will forgive me yet another misstep.”

“Yeah, Harry, I forgive you,” Eggsy says, half smiling. “I always do, don’t I?”

“Yes, you do, even though I certainly don’t deserve it.”

“Well, I guess you can make it up by doing me a favor.” 

“Which is?”

“Can I stay with you for a couple weeks while this heals up? It didn't hit nothing important but Gipson doesn’t want me ‘running amuck like a four-year-old’ or,” Eggsy holds his side where the wound is while he laughs, “‘pakering’ as he calls it. He won’t let me go until he knows I will be with someone for a couple weeks. Normally, I’d just go back to the flat since mum and Daisy are downstairs, but I can’t have her climbing all over me. Of course, I can stay with Rox, too.”

"Eggsy, I'd be happy to have you." _In all senses of the word_ , Harry thinks. "I’ll go home and get the guest ready. I’ll expect you in, say, two hours?"

By the time Eggsy shows up on his doorstep, Harry has made the house as comfortable as he can for him. The guest has fresh linens. Eggsy’s favorite tea and biscuits are in the pantry and there is a roast in the over for their dinner. 

“Fucking hell, Harry, it smells amazing in here. You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I have to eat too, you know. Besides, I wanted to. I haven’t had company since James and Alistair had a fight that was so horrid Alistair threw him out for a week. I think James had flirted with a mark a little too well or he had spilled tea all over Alistair’s new rifle. It could have been either, or both, with Alistair.”

“Merlin should be careful then.”

“Indeed,” Harry absentmindedly agrees.

“Ha! I knew it. Merlin _is_ fucking Percival.”

“I know I can’t ask you to forget that, but might I request that you are discreet? Merlin is, after all, my oldest friend and a fiercely private man. Let him have this, Eggsy, with no blathering about it.”

“Sure thing, I won’t poke at him once about it because you asked.”

“Thank you, Eggsy.”

“Unless he takes the piss out of me for something, then it’s fair game.”

—————

Two days after Eggsy begins staying with him, Harry is surprised when Cedric comes and knocks at his office door. 

“Cedric,” Harry stands as the nurse walks in, “good afternoon. Please, sit. Tea?”

“No, thank you, I won’t be long,” Cedric says as he sits down. “Is Gaheris staying with you while he recovers?”

“He is, is that a problem?”

“No, sir, not at all. I wanted to make sure someone was making sure he was resting and not flinging himself off of light posts.”

“‘Yes, 'pakering’ as Gipson called it?”

“God, _pakering_ ,” Cedric huffs, rolling his eyes, “I thought Gaheris would shit himself when Gipson said that. His neck turned red from keeping a straight face. Gipson means well, he does, and he’s a fine doctor, but he is showing his age.

“Anyway, I wanted to make sure he was being looked after, taking his meds and all. The knife the mark stabbed him with was dirty and the wound was looking like it was on its way to a nasty infection when he came in, so make sure he is taking his antibiotics.”

“He neglected to mention that, but I will ensure that he does, Cedric, thank you.”

Cedric stands and walks towards the door. He turns just before he goes out of it. “It’s good of you to do this, take care Eggsy that is.” He surprises Harry by the use of Eggsy’s name, Cedric _never_ calls anyone by their actual name. “He’s a good agent, if reckless, but more than that, he’s a nice change, him and Lancelot, in this organization. A needed one.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“If the little prick won’t take his meds, let him know I make house calls.”

Harry spends the rest of the afternoon feeling better than he has since he woke up down an eye and out of a job. 

—————

Eggsy _loves_ staying with Harry. It was one hundred percent worth getting stabbed to have Harry all to himself like this. They go to work together, and since Eggsy is off field work while he heals, Harry brings him lunch in his office. They go home together and either Harry cooks or Eggsy orders takeaway. After dinner they end up on the sofa either watching a movie or Harry reading while Eggsy watches Harry, uh, texts his friends. Harry still won’t let Eggsy have any alcohol while he is healing but he will make them a pot of tea and regale Eggsy with more stories of missions when Harry was still the young, dashing Galahad.

“I had to make a run for it, to the roof mind you, where the helicopter was for extraction, wearing nothing but the mark’s pink satin knickers. It wasn’t a total loss though, I got the molecular code we needed and found out how lovely satin can be brushing against one’s bollocks. I’ve indulged ever since,” Harry proclaims, a little more exuberantly than what he would have had he not snuck whiskey into his tea.

Harry’s bollocks covered in satin. _Fuck_. Eggsy pictures himself saying _bet my tongue is even softer, bruv_ , and promptly chokes on his tea.

“Eggsy, are you quite alright?”

“Yeah, Harry,” Eggsy rasps back, “just went down the wrong way.” _Went down, get it? Wink, wink, nudge, nudge._ Eggsy wonders if he raps his head against the wall hard enough he could render himself unconscious and shut his own fucking brain up. When he stops coughing, he grimaces and pushes his hand against his side. 

“Eggsy,” Harry admonishes, “you have hurt yourself.” Harry stands and walks over to him, cane gently plonking against the floor. “Come on, up you get, we need to see if you have reopened the wound.”

Eggsy tries to wave Harry away with his hand. “Harry, I am fine, promise. Just coughed too hard, yeah?”

“Nonsense.” Harry holds out his hand and waits for Eggsy to take it. “We can stand here all night, and I hope you wouldn’t keep a poor, helpless cripple like myself on my feet for too long, or you can just come into the loo with me and let me check your wound and bandage.”

“If I am a good boy, will you feed me a lolly and tuck me in?” Eggsy asks before he thinks about what he is saying. His breath catches in his throat and for a moment Eggsy thinks he might see Harry’s do the same before his eye flicks down to Eggsy’s mouth.

“If you’re a good boy, I won’t dart you with my watch and drag you into the loo myself,” Harry answers.

Eggsy takes Harry’s hand because it has been offered, damn it and he will not turn down any excuse to touch Harry, and stands. “Anyone who believes you are a poor, helpless anything is straight on mental, mate.”

“Yes, but I do enjoy cultivating the image. I am positive it will come in handy later.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes but follows Harry into the loo, taking his shirt off as he goes, grimacing slightly as it pulls on his wound. He refuses to sit on the toilet as that would require Harry to bend down, standing instead as Harry pulls the bandage away from his skin. Thankfully, Eggsy did not pull his stitches. Harry looks a little put out at being proven wrong but he trails his fingers gently down Eggsy’s side. Harry’s eye moves up to catch Eggsy’s and for one blinding moment Eggsy thinks that Harry just might kiss him. His heart races. 

Harry blinks once, abruptly drops his hand from his side, and clears his throat. “Everything looks to be in order. I’ll just put a fresh bandage on and we can go back to our evening,” he says, smiling around the tension that sits in his face.

They do try to go back to their evening, but ease of it has been lost. Eggsy is restless now, a low simmer of arousal just under his skin as he tries, and fails, to forget the feel of Harry’s fingers against his skin. He gives it up as a bad job and calls it a night, weighing the merits of a nice leisurely wank against the odds of pulling his stitches and having to explain to Harry just how he did it tomorrow morning. 

Eggsy stands. “I’m off to bed, see you in the morning, yeah? I’ll go in with you.”

“Of course, Eggsy. Nothing would please me more,” Harry responds, smiling up at him from the couch.

When Eggsy reaches the stairs he stops, turns around and goes back into where Harry is. 

“Was there something you needed?”

Eggsy looks down at his feet. “I wanted you to know that I appreciate you taking care of me like this. I’ve never had someone do this for me, you know. Mum tried to, but sometimes it were better for her to keep Dean off of me rather than put some frozen peas on my busted cheek. And my mates, well, they all had their own pain to tend to, so it was usually me stitching myself up with some shite I nicked from the A&E the last time I was there.” Harry looks slightly horrified so Eggsy barrels on. “But, I mean it, having you mother hen me has been nice, and I’ll never admit it again, but it was something I never knew I needed until you did it for me, Harry. I know you think that you ain’t worth much right now since you can’t be Galahad any more, but you’re wrong. I need you, Harry. I needed you when you pulled me out of Holborn, I needed you when you died, and I need you now.” Eggsy can feel his face heat to the same surface temperature of the sun, but if it means embarrassing himself to give Harry some of his own back, then he will do it. 

“I, well…” Harry starts, “I can assure you, Eggsy, that the pleasure has been all mine, and that I will always be here whenever you need me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: blood and gore from a mission gone bad.

Eggsy drops his bag on to one of the beanbag chairs that litter his flat. He hasn’t been here in weeks, ever since his injury, but there isn’t a spot of dust and the air is fresh and cool. He should run out and buy his mum some flowers before he goes downstairs, thank her for taken care of things while he is gone. Eggsy walks over to the windows and stares out into the London skyline. It’s just now dusk and lights are flickering around the city. 

Eggsy wonders what Harry is doing right now. Probably pottering about the house, making tea and sneaking alcohol in it despite his orders to never mix his medications with it. He will be in his armchair with either some music or the television in the background, a drink in one hand and a book in the other. Most likely, he is wearing a slightly worn cardigan that just makes Eggsy want to put his hands all over him, and he will have switched out his glasses for his eye patch, if he bothers with anything at all.

Eggsy aches with how much he longs to be back there and not here. He thinks about going over and just showing up on Harry’s doorstep, but Harry has to be enjoying having the house to himself again, so he doesn’t. Instead, he goes out to get his mum those flowers she deserves and spends the night playing “the floor is lava” with a squealing Daisy. 

—————

Harry sits in his arm chair in much the same fashion that Eggsy pictured him in, except he is just in his shirt sleeves and the tea is straight whiskey. He is one and a half bottles in. He had tried to keep up appearances while Eggsy was staying over, but since he is alone, he doesn’t see the point, which also means the eye patch is not in play either. Why bother if there was no one here to look at him?

He hasn’t craved the constant companionship of someone living in the same space as him since Nathan left close to six years ago, but now he feels Eggsy’s absence, even after he had only been staying there for a couple weeks, like a lost limb. None of his lovers before had left him with such an ache before, (and, in Eggsy's case, someone who wasn't even a lover). Once they had been out the door Harry had allowed himself to wallow in self pity for one night before moving on. 

Harry pours himself a third drink, a cold twist to his lips. Honestly, it is not as if any of those sorry fucks he had been with could have done better than _him_. No, he thinks, they should have been thankful that Harry even took the fucking time of day. Take Nathan. Did he think Harry was stupid? All those nights he wanted to go out with his friends and leave Harry home alone. Why go out without your boyfriend unless you have something to hide. 

“ _Manipulative and abusive, Harry, that’s what you are.”_

_“Abusive,” Harry scoffs, “I would never raise a hand to you.”_

_Nathan turns his back on him, the tense line of his shoulders bunching underneath the shirt he wore. The expensive shirt, like the twenty or more he has in the closet upstairs, that Harry had bought him. “You don’t have to hit someone to be an abuser. You think I am always looking out for the next best thing, cooling my heels with you until your replacement comes along. How many times do I have to tell you that_ you _'re the one I want to be with?”_

_“Telling and showing are two different thing, darling. You go off with friends and leave me here. How do I know what you are up to?”_

_“Are you serious? You disappear for fucking weeks for your job and I don’t accuse you of being unfaithful.”_

_“That’s because I never would.”_

_“No, that’s because I trust you, as you should trust me. We’ve been together for three years. I would like us to be together longer, but if you can’t let me out of your sight for fear of me hopping on someone else’s cock the minute you turn your back, we won’t be.”_

_Harry quails. “Nathan, dearest, I love you. Forgive me. You are just so special and so handsome that I sometimes get too possessive for my own good. Surely you see this just goes to show how much I love you.”_

_“Jesus. Do you even hear yourself? That doesn’t show that you love me, it shows that you want to own me, Harry, and no one owns me. I’m going out with Jason and Shelly. I’ll be back later this evening.”_

_“If you leave, you can come back to pack up your belongings, and not the ones I bought for you.”_

_“If that is your idea of love, you, and it, are worthless to me.”_

_“Worthless? You call me worthless? What did you have before I picked you up out of that gutter called a club?”_

_Nathan cocks his head. “My self-respect, which is more than you have. Good night.”_

_Nathan flinches when a glass hits the wall next to him. “You wouldn’t dare leave me.”_

_“I’ll be back in the morning for my things.”_

_In the morning Nathan returns, Jason along with him, as if Harry is_ a thre _at, to pack up what little he had brought into the relationship. He leaves all the gifts Harry had spoiled him with over the three years they were together exactly where they were. Harry stays in the kitchen, half ashamed and half astounded that someone was leaving him_ again _. Why does no one ever appreciate all that he does for them?_

_After Nathan leaves he systematically destroys everything he ever gave him in a drunken rage._

_The following morning, while he is drinking his breakfast, the doorbell rings and Harry lurches towards it thinking it is Nathan. It’s not. It’s Merlin with a roll of bin bags and a resigned look on his face._

_“You are a fucking arsehole of the highest degree. Nathan was the best thing that had happened to you in years.”_

_“Hamish, you have to understand…”_

_Merlin sighs and pushes past Harry into the house. “I do understand, Harry, but it doesn’t mean I like it. Let’s get this shit cleaned up and get you halfway sober. You’re wheels up in four hours.” Merlin surveys the wreckage as he walks through the house. “Jesus fucking Christ, what a mess.”_

_Harry doesn’t know if Merlin is talking about the house or him._

—————

Harry rights his tie in the washroom mirror, smiling to himself. He has just come from a session with Viviane, a most successful one if the slight burn in his thighs is any sign. He had left her still lying across her desk, panting slightly, her pencil skirt around her waist and her blouse fanned out under her back like silk wings. He may prefer men, but fucking your therapist has some perks. Foremost being that it distracts her from asking him about anything of import. Like his feelings about no longer being an agent, or, previous to Kentucky, why a mission file mentions excessive use of force. 

It has served him, and her, well for years.

“Same time next week, Harry?” she asked. “It will be your last session, we should do something special.”

“I'll leave that up to you. Shall I tell your assistant to hold any calls for the next thirty minutes?”

“A true gentleman.”

His shaking hands and weak leg be damned, as long as his body cooperated, either through luck or modern pharmacological help, Harry can still fuck like a twenty-year-old when he wanted to. He washes his hands and face. It wouldn’t do to go back to his station smelling of sex, especially when Merlin hovers behind him like an overlarge bat. If he wasn’t afraid he would stab himself with his knitting needles, he would tell his best friend, with the utmost kindness and love, where he could shove the handler position. 

He walks out the door with a jaunt in his step. He thinks he will stop by Eggsy’s office on the way back to his station, say hello, see of he would like dinner tonight. As he approaches the door, the sound of a voice other than Eggsy’s brings him up short. He quietly moves up and looks through the slightly open door.

Eggsy and the new Geraint, Holden, Harry thinks his name is, are sitting on the couch in Eggsy’s office, and they are sitting just a little too close for Harry’s liking. 

“We should go over the covers we have for our upcoming mission,” Holden says. 

“I don’t think there is much to go over, mate. We're supposed to be club boys out spending our family’s money, yeah? I don’t think it calls for some in-depth research,” Eggsy replies, laughing.

“Ok, then why don’t we go out to a club tonight, make sure we're belivable?” Holden places his hand on Eggsy’s leg and Eggsy looks at it before raising his eyes back up to Holden’s. He folds his arms in front of him and his lips turn up in a smirk. 

Harry waits in triumph to hear Eggsy turn the little presumptuous fucker down. 

“Yeah, all right.”

Harry’s stomach lands somewhere near his feet. He goes hot and cold all over, all at once. His head is throbbing.

“Perfect,” Holden says as he squeezes Eggsy’s thigh once before removing the hand that Harry is planning to remove from him later. “Wear something appropriate.”

“Don’t worry, I know what the fuck I am on about.”

“I’ll come to yours around ten, have a drink ready for me?”

“I’ll have three ready. Two for me and one for you, I haven’t been out in fucking ages. Rox and I go sometimes, but she’s been in Canada these past couple weeks and before that I was laid up at Harry’s.”

“Bet that was boring as fuck.”

“What, med leave?”

“No, being stuck at the former Galahad’s house. Did he make you eat crumpets and watch _Downton Abbey_?”

Eggsy laughs.

Harry whirls around and leaves before he can hear Eggsy’s answer. 

“Eavesdroppers rarely hear anything they like,” Merlin intones as Harry stomps to his station a few moments later.

“Merlin?”

“Yes, Ryence?” Merlin asks without looking up from his clipboard.

“Kindly fuck right off.”

—————

A little before ten, Harry has tapped in to Eggsy’s security feed in his flat. He flips through the various cameras, with the sound down because whatever music is playing is _horrific_ , looking for Eggsy. He finds him on the third one. Eggsy is in his open air living room standing in front of his liquor cabinet, mixing two drinks, and dancing to the music. The painted on jeans he is wearing leave nothing to the imagination much like his black t-shirt that has “Bottoms Up” written across it. He is dancing to the music Harry refuses to listen to, undulating in a way that puts Harry in mind as to his gymnastics background and lets Harry know exactly what Eggsy would look like while riding his cock. Harry takes a fortifying drink of his pre-after dinner scotch and tries to ignore that said cock is definitely taking an interest even if it is slowly. 

Eggsy lifts his head, calls something out, and a few moments Holden comes in dressed much like Eggsy. Harry is happy to note that Eggsy, with his compact and tight musculature looks astoundingly more handsome and fuckable than that twat, Holden. As Eggsy hands him a drink, Holden attempts to pull Eggsy closer to him, a move Eggsy evades, though he is laughing. Harry’s stomach curdles. They drink their drinks, chatting, blantantly eyeing the other up, then Eggsy is pocketing his phone and heading out the door, Holden following behind.

Harry considers following them to watch exactly what they plan on getting into, but Eggsy would most likely notice him at some point, not to mention a man in his mid-fifties would stand out amid all the club goers. He sets an alert to come over his glasses when there is movement in Eggsy’s flat and goes downstairs to the basement to mount the butterflies he has been working on for the past few days. If only he could do that to Eggsy.

—————

Eggsy might be a little more intoxicated than he had planned. 

Might be. Is. Yes. 

He also might be considering doing something he may regret in the morning. 

Might be. Definitely will regret. Who cares?

Holden is sitting in the cab next to him looking out the window. He has definitely become more interesting with the addition of alcohol. Honestly, Eggsy thinks he’s a bit of a cunt. On a scale of Not a Cunt (1) to Charlie Hesketh (10), Holden is about a five. He’s fit enough, but even Charlie had that going for him, not that Eggsy would ever fucking admit that to _anyone._ He’d sell out Kingsman before he said that out loud. The little comment about Harry being boring pissed Eggsy off and Eggsy let him know it. But, and Eggsy is fine with admitting this, Holden is just enough of Not a Cunt for Eggsy to consider letting him put his cock up his arse tonight even though Eggsy knows that that is a Very Bad Idea. Not only because they will be on a week long mission as lovers soon, and this will just muddy the waters and distract from the mission, and if they do it tonight and it’s good, they'll be doing it on the mission. Hell, they'll be doing it all over the fucking hotel even if it ain’t any good, who the fuck was he kidding?

He hasn’t been with anyone since that gorgeous bird, who could bend in ways even Eggsy couldn’t, before he was on medical leave. It’s been a little while since he’s brought home a man so right now Holden is looking pretty damn good. 

The cab pulls up to Eggsy’s building. Holden turns to say something and Eggsy pushes forward, kissing him before he can do so.

“Wanna come up to mine for another drink?”

“Definitely,” Holden replies. “I was about to ask if I could.”

“Great fucking minds, mate.”

Once they get through the door Holden wastes no time pushing Eggsy up against the wall, shoving a thigh in between his legs and a tongue down his throat. Eggsy groans enthusiastically and gets his hands in the thick brown hair like he has wanted to for most of the night. Holden pulls back and rests his forehead against Eggsy’s. His green eyes, a clear emerald to Eggsy’s mossy ones, are dark and a flush creeps down his pale skin, disappearing under his collar.

“Two questions,” he says, grinding against Eggsy.

Eggsy is panting, making small movements with his hips, pushing against the thigh shoved against his cock. “If this is the part where you admit you're a double agent and ask my credentials, can we wait until _after_ we fuck?”

Holden throws back his head and laughs, his slightly crooked teeth flashing white in the low light of Eggsy’s foyer. 

“What in earth do I need your credentials for? I have my own.”

“Who the fuck cares?”

“Anyway,” Holden leans forward and bites Eggsy’s neck hard enough to leave a mark, “what I wanted to know is a) where your shower is, and b) if your shirt rings true.”

“My shirt…?” Eggsy looks down and remembers what he is wearing. “Jesus, tonight it is.” He pushes Holden off of him. “Shower’s right up here,” he says, leading the other man up the stairs. 

They get each other off in the shower. Eggsy pulling Holden off while he whispers about how cannot wait to get fucked with, and this is not a lie, the impressive cock Holden has been hiding, and the Eggsy shooting down Holden’s throat a couple minutes later. After Holden leaves Eggsy alone, he does an extra thorough clean up, dries off and heads to his bedroom where he finds Holden waiting on him.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, Eggsy.”

"Don't I know it, mate" he says with a wink, "be a love, reach into the drawer on your right and grab the lube? I don’t want nothing slowing us down."

Eggsy walks over to the panel set into the wall to triple lock the door, lower the lights, and play his personal “Imma About to Get Fucked” playlist. 

Smooth. As. Fuck. 

When he turns back Holden has retrieved the lube and is stroking his cock lazily while he watches Eggsy walk around the room. Eggsy goes over to the bed and crawls up it until he is straddling Holden’s waist. 

“Hello,” Eggsy says, looking down at Holden. 

“Come on down then and give us a kiss,” Holden replies, smiling up at him. 

Eggsy licks into Holden’s mouth, rolling to the side when Holden sits up to change their position. He is bigger than Eggsy, broader in the shoulders, taller, and Eggsy enjoys the way he pins him against the bed. Eggsy wraps his legs around the other man’s waist, rolling his hips in time with Holden’s, their cocks slotting together perfectly. Eggsy’s hands go down to Holden’s arse, grabbing and kneading, pulling them together with more force. 

“Jesus, mate, I would offer to blow you before we fuck but all I can think about is getting your cock up me.”

Holden’s hips push against his with more force and he groans against Eggsy’s neck. “My god,” he says as he kneels up from between Eggsy’s thighs, “flip over. I am dying to watch my prick slip in and out of that hole of yours.”

Eggsy's as wet as a bird and cross-eyed with it despite getting off in the shower not even an hour ago. He flips over onto his hands and knees, propping himself up against the low wall that separates his loft bed and the drop straight down to the first floor. From this position not only can he look out on the gorgeous skyline but he can also watch himself get fucked in the reflection in the windows.

Eggsy expects Holden’s fingers to find their way into him, instead he is surprised to feel the man’s tongue. 

“Oh…” Eggsy stutters out as his thighs shake. Holden doesn’t give him a chance to say much else as he slowly tongues Eggsy, his fingers slipping in when he gives his jaw a rest, working him open and loose, a never ending loop that leaves Eggsy half hanging over the partition, his jaw slack, his hips thrusting back, and a soft stream of “please, please…” coming from his mouth. Eggsy is so out of it that he doesn’t even realize Holden has stopped until he feels a blunt pressure pushing against his loose and sensitive entrance. His back arches as Holden pushes in slowly until he bottoms out.

“Oh,” Holden breathes, his head pressing against Eggsy, right between his shoulder blades. He pulls out half way and pushes in again. Eggsy moans, pushing back to meet him. "Oh my god."

“Come on, fuck me. Jesus, please.”

Holden’s right hand slides up Eggsy’s back until he grasps his nape, pulling Eggsy up so he is leaning against the partition while his left grasps Eggsy’s hip. He leans forward, biting Eggsy’s neck again, whispering, “Look at you, you dirty little pleb, watching yourself getting fucked.” Holden starts fucking him, his hips smacking against Eggsy’s arse. “I was right you know, my prick looks fucking fantastic in your arse. _Fucking hell,_ ” he moans out as Eggsy clenches down on him. 

Eggsy’s head drops between his arms as Holden fucks him the way he likes it, hard and deep. 

“Oh, no, you wanted to watch, sweetheart, so _watch_ ,” he breathes into Eggsy’s ear and he pulls his head up by the hair making Eggsy focus on their reflection. “Get yourself off.”

Eggsy reaches down and jerks his cock. He is so close it only takes a handful of strokes before he is crying out and coming all over the sheet below him. Holden’s fingers dig into his hip and he slams Eggsy through his orgasm, coming himself seconds after Eggsy finishes. They fall down to the side, avoiding the mess on the sheets, catching their breath. 

Eggsy is almost asleep when he feels Holden leave the bed. 

“Thanks for the shag, gorgeous, but I am off,” he says as he pulls his clothes on. “I have a quick two day reconnaissance mission in Paris starting tomorrow afternoon.” He comes back over to the bed, leaning down to kiss Eggsy. “You were bloody fantastic.”

“Be careful over in Paris, yeah? Don’t get your arse beat for being a twat and all.”

Holden laughs as he heads down to the stairs to the door. Eggsy gets out of bed, ignores the feel of come running down his leg, and unlocks the door, re-locking it behind him. He pulls the sheets off the bed, throwing them in a pile to tossed in the washer tomorrow before falling face first on the bed. Holden is a right twat, he is, but that fucker is perf in bed. Eggsy won’t be able to walk straight for a month after their mission. 

—————

Harry’s laptop lies on the floor of his office, its screen cracked and separated from the keyboard. Downstairs, a glass lies shattered on the floor, a stain on the wall a few feet above it where it had been thrown against it while still full. Harry is sitting in his arm chair, drinking straight from the bottle, his cock harder than it has been in years from seeing Eggsy getting fucked and panting for it, while he thinks up increasingly painful ways to wipe that little shitstain Holden from the face of the earth for thinking he had the right to know what Eggsy looks like when he comes. 

—————

Eggsy knocks at Harry’s door and waits for permission to enter. Harry was grumpy as fuck the day before so he thought he would try to lure him out for lunch to see what is bothering him before Eggsy has to leave for his mission with Holden tomorrow. 

“Come,” Harry calls. 

“Hey, Harry,” Eggsy says as he comes through the door. Harry is sitting at his desk, his pinstripe jacket is folded over the back of one of the guest chairs and the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to his elbows. Eggsy finds his eyes drawn to the lightly haired forearms and how the muscles in them move underneath the skin as Harry lifts his hands from his laptop. Harry’s eyes rise to Eggsy’s and for a moment Eggsy is almost positive he sees anger in them before they smooth out and a practiced smile forms on his face.

“Ah, Eggsy,” Harry says, sounding disappointed, sitting back from the desk and folding his hands across his stomach, “is there something you needed?”

“Are you serious with this, Harry? When have I ever had to need something to come to your office? I was coming to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me before I leave tomorrow.”

“Afraid I can’t today, Merlin has me reading over the briefs of the missions I am handling for the next few weeks.”

“You won’t be handling me and Holden?” He had been looking forward to Harry’s toffee smooth voice in his ear, trading jokes with him, and making inappropriate observations on the people around him. A Not-Harry-handler and a Not-Harry-Holden, which as fun as a fuck as Holden was, all added up to one shit mission in Eggsy’s opinion. 

Eggsy sees Harry's jaw clench.

“No, I told you Merlin wanted me to handle multiple agents. I am not your personal handler, Eggsy, don’t be absurd.” Harry’s voice is cold. It sounds like a dead dog and a gunshot that he still hears in his nightmares. 

“Right. If you don’t want to go to lunch, maybe you can tell me what crawled up your arse yesterday and today, because you’ve been a right fucking prick, mate.”

“If you take issue with my behavior Eggsy, I am more than happy to invite you to leave the same way that you came in. I don’t have time to hold a junior agent’s hand because he just realized the agency doesn’t revolve around him.”

Eggsy gapes at Harry. Hand to God stands there with his mouth hanging open for a full ten seconds before he can process what this _absolute fucking prick_ just said to him.

“If I take _‘issue’_ I can show myself out? Happy to fucking do so. Just in case you were wondering though, I was coming by because I was worried about you, Harry, because normally your aren’t a cold fucking arsehole to the people here at the manor, especially not me. I thought that maybe it would do you some good to talk to the bloke who is your…” Eggsy runs his hand through his hair. “Christ, I don’t even know what we are, but I know we ain’t some pair of shitty co-workers that share a bored hello over the kettle in the mornings, yeah? But you can go fuck yourself on the stick you got rammed up your arse. I am glad you ain’t going to be my handler, I’d rather go at it dark than with you playing Princess Pissy Pants in my fucking ear.”

Eggsy turns on his heel and walks to the door. He hears Harry sigh behind him. 

“Eggsy…”

Eggsy flips two fingers up without turning around and walks out the door. 

—————

Holden meets him at the hangar the following morning, luggage and mission packet in hand. 

“Gaheris, good morning.”

Eggsy nods like the professional he is. “Geraint.” He gestures at the entrance to the plane. “After you,” following when Holden is on the stairs. Once in he pours them each a drink and settles in the chair opposite. They each open their mission packets and Eggsy taps his glasses to ping his handler.

“Good morning, gentleman,” Elaine says, “if you haven’t already guessed I will be your handler, along with Cador, who will take over when I am not here, for this mission. You have approximately two and a half hours until you land at Innsbruck, and a car will take you to Igls. You are there to intercept the handoff of the vial containing the virus, remove White, the buyer, and if possible, bring the doctor back to us. If not, kill him as well. Please remember that you should not break the vial, if you do please do not return to the manor, although I would think you would be too busy shitting blood from your insides liquefying…”

“Lovely, Elaine, ta,” Eggsy says, sounding choked while Elaine laughs in their ears.

“Also, make it look like the deal went bad or a third party burst in to steal the virus for themselves. We can use the time that the members of AFU and the doctor’s employers are chasing their own arses to study the virus and antidote and find out where the people behind the AFU and doctor are hiding.”

“You know, we have read the mission packets, give us some credit,” Holden says, rolling his eyes at Eggsy.

“I thought it best I explain it to you as well, I know how much of your brain power you use up admiring yourself in the mirror, Geraint.”

“Hmm, very telling, Elaine. How much time do you spend watching me to know how vain I am?”

“I’ll never tell. Ping me when you get settled, boys. I will spend some time familiarizing myself with the area and hotel.”

“Will do, Elaine. Nice to have you back in my ear again.”

“And here I thought you loved Ryence the best and you had forgotten all about poor little old me.”

Eggsy bristles in his chair, fucking Harry is the last thing he wants to think about right now. “I could never forget about you, love, you’re the one that won’t leave your girlfriend and run away with me,” Eggsy replies, full of forced cheer.

“I might if you pull this mission off.”

“Added incentive then, Gaheris out.”

Holden nudges his foot against Eggsy’s. “Has the good little agent memorized his mission packet, then? Or shall I go over it for you?”

“Fuck off,” Eggsy says, still frustrated, until he sees Holden is smiling at him. Eggsy rubs the back of his neck and blushes. “Sorry, shit day yesterday.”

“Want me to blow you?”

—————

The first two days Eggsy and Holden, as Christopher and Seb, are at the resort nothing happens. The two marks they are looking for, a William Schaefer who is the creator and delivery man, and Josef White, second lieutenant for AFU are no where to be seen. They are able to get a couple days in on the slopes and a couple nights fucking on every surface able to be fucked on, so Eggsy is counting it as a win so far. 

On their third day there, Elaine breaks into what was shaping up to be a spectacular row about Holden leaving his wet towels on the fucking floor again to let them know that White and Schaefer have both been spotted with two miles of the resort. They are heading for the location for the handover, a private lodge about a mile up the slopes. Holden and Eggsy throw on their skiing gear, head to the lift, and then, as they ski down, they very discreetly veer off into the woods next to the lodge. 

“We are in place, Elaine,” Eggsy says as they crouch down behind a row of firewood that runs perpendicular to the house.

“Good, both groups are about five minutes away, you should be able to hear their snowmobiles in a moment.”

“I got them,” Holden says, pointing. Eggsy zooms in with his glasses. There is a group of five men coming in from the northwest and one of four coming in from the east. 

“Schaefer is holding the virus, so if you need to kill him, you need to do it _carefully_ ,” Elaine says.

Eggsy runs through the photos in the file on his glasses. Schaefer looks to be in his sixties with a full head of thick white hair, tan skin, and old west pointed goatee and a mustache that Eggsy would like if it wasn’t attached to a man who created a virus that could kill someone in thirty seconds. Unfortunately the man is far from frail. The file lists him at 6’4” and a regular competitor in triathlons world-wide. White will be a little easier. He is shorter, and out of shape, and while younger, will rely on his men to fight for him. 

They crouch back down behind the row of wood as the men pull up. 

“Mr. Schaefer, thank you for bringing us the virus,” White calls out in Eastern European accented English, as they all get off the snowmobiles and walk towards each other, “my employer is very grateful as you can see.” Eggsy and Holden hear two clicks of the snaps of a briefcase being opened. 

“It is all there?”

“Yes. Would you like to count it?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Schaefer opens the small black case he has in his hands. There is a small vial nestled in it. “If it is not, I will not send the antidote formula.” 

“That was not the deal. The deal was the virus and the antidote in exchange for payment.”

“Do you think I am stupid? Come out here to the middle of no where, give you both the virus and the antidote, and then hope I leave alive with the money? You're a fucking idiot.”

Eggsy taps Holden on the shoulder, points up with one hand before reaching into his ski suit and pulling his gun out while counting down from three with the other. They both pop up at the same time.

“Gentleman, I am sure we can settle this like friends,” Holden calls out as he raises both arms, each hand holding a Kingsman TT-30. He moves towards the Doctor. Eggsy is right next to him, moving towards White, pulling out his second weapon. The body guards raise their own guns.

“Why don’t you put your guns down and we can discuss this?” Eggsy asks.

“Who the fuck are you?” White blurts out. 

“I think you know exactly who we are,” Holden answers while looking pointedly at Schaefer. 

“You fucking bastard,” White yells at Schaefer, pulling his own gun. “You figure you take the money and the virus so you can sell it again, yes?”

“I have no idea who these two are. How do I know _you_ hadn’t planned on doing exactly as _I_ thought?” Schaefer shouts back, advancing a step. Both groups of hired guns are alternating between pointing at White, Schaefer, Eggsy, and Holden, confused as to who the biggest threats are. 

Eggsy shows them. 

He brings both guns up and fires. Holden does the same. Two of the five men with White drop instantly as do two of Schaefer’s men. There one moment of silence where all the men still standing simply look at one another. Elaine says “And here we go,” over the comms, and they definitely go. The remaining body guards open fire on Holden and Eggsy who charge towards them, firing themselves, while Schaefer and White, still carrying their own cases, run for the cover of the snowmobiles. 

Eggsy feels the impact of each bullet against his snowsuit, a dull but bruising _thud-thud-thud_ against his chest and thighs. His arm right arm is raised, his gun still firing, when a bullet hits him in the hand causing him to drop it. He immediately raises his left to continue firing. When he gets close, he jumps at the first one, pushing him to the ground, a knee in his chest, and snugging the gun under the man’s chin. He pulls the trigger. The snow turns red. Three of his down. He looks up to see another guard in front of him, sitting down his rifle at him. Eggsy rolls away as a bullet slams into the chest of the man he just killed. Now both the remaining guards are bearing down on him, firing again, although they seem to be a little more judicious on where their bullets are going. Snow kicks up all around Eggsy’s head and he wonders if it isn’t the time for Kingsman to issue bullet proof headwear. 

Eggsy kicks himself up to his feet, almost falling when a bullet meant for his head hits him in the left shin. White hot pain rushes up his leg, and he hopes that one didn't make it through his snowsuit. He is raising his gun up when the head of the man on his left snaps back and he falls. 

“Thank me later, Gaheris,” he hears as he turns to see Holden turning back around to his last man.

When he turns to shoot the last guard, the butt of the man’s rifle hits him in the face. Eggsy goes back down into the snow on to his hands and knees, blood pouring from his nose.

“Jesus fuck mate, you had to go for the face? How am I supposed catch a shag if my damn face is all bruised up?”

The man kicks him in the ribs. Eggsy falls to the side before he scrambles to get up. The man kicks him again, catching his left hand with the gun. It flies out and away from him into the snow. Eggsy is thinking frantically as he crawls away, unable to get to his feet, his ribs and swollen nose making it hard to breathe. He hears gunfire behind him, Holden is having more luck than he is.

“You should stay down, you little fucker,” he says as he flips over.

“That’s what I said to your mother last night. Unlike me though, she listened.” Eggsy stares up at the man, who is now standing above him, a foot to the side of either of Eggsy’s hips, his gun inches from Eggsy’s face. He doubts he will be as lucky as Harry was. 

“Stop fucking around, Gaheris, and kill him already, there is a helicopter coming in from the south and it isn’t ours. Unknown as to which party it belongs to. Our extraction is two minutes ahead of them, they will be a quarter mile back from the lodge, to the north, waiting for you two and the packages,” Elaine says.

“You little fucking shit,” the man starts just as Eggsy slams the heels of his snow boots together, and ignoring the pain from his ribs, jackknifes his legs up, driving the poison blade into the man’s lower spine. The man falls forward as Eggsy rolls out of his way and snags the gun from his dead arms. White, seeing his men down, tries to get on a snowmobile. Eggsy raises the guard’s rifle and shoots him in the back. 

He pushes himself up, puts the blade back in, and walks toward where Holden is slowly approaching Schaefer. The doctor is holding the small black case that has the virus in it. Eggsy can tell from where he is, fifty feet to Holden’s ten, that the doctor is out of his mind on adrenaline. Holden holsters his weapons.

“Dr. Schaefer,” Holden says, holding his hands out, “it’s over. My friend and I mean you no harm. Just come with us and you can have the money and the virus. Our employer would just like a chance to make his own deal. Think of White’s money as a bonus.”

“The incoming helicopter is White’s men. Three minutes til their arrival. Your extraction landing now,” Elaine says over the glasses. 

Schaefer’s eyes dart between Holden, the case of money lying next to where White’s body slumps over the snowmobile, to Eggsy with his gun, and then back to Holden. Eggsy sees his hands move towards the case clasp.

“Hold on a second, Geraint, back up.”

“It’s fine, Gaheris, isn’t it Dr.? We have a helicopter coming in now to get us, but White has extra men coming in as well. Seems he had planned on double-crossing you the entire time. We can protect you if you let us.”

The latch clicks.

“Fucking back up, Geraint,” Eggsy yells just as the doctor reaches in, pulls the vial out and throws it at Holden.

For a moment Eggsy thinks it will be ok. The snow is soft so it won’t break. Everything is fine. Then Holden raises his hand up instinctively, Elaine yells, " _we need bio-containment at the scene now!"_ to the extraction team, and the vial clinks against the metal on Holden’s watch.

He and Eggsy watch in horror as it snaps, spilling the virus all over Holden’s face. 

“No!” Eggsy yells, and moves to rush towards him.

“Do _not_ move, Gaheris,” Merlin voice says over the comms, and it is far too ingrained in Eggsy’s hindbrain to obey, because he stops, skidding in the snow and almost falling on to his arse. Ahead of him, the doctor is getting on a snowmobile and starting it, making to drive away. Holden pulls one gun and shoots him in the back of the head. The snowmobile keeps going for a few more seconds before careening to the side and stopping. 

Eggsy watches helplessly as Holden turns back around, already coughing up more blood than Eggsy knows is safe. He backs away from Eggsy.

“Sorry,” Holden manages before he falls to his knees, gouts of blood coming from his mouth and nose. He falls flat, twitches once, and then is still, his bloody eyes looking at Eggsy. 

Eggsy hears footsteps behind him and flips around, gun raised.

“Stand down, Gaheris. It’s the extraction team.”

Eggsy looks up to see another helicopter coming in. He zooms in on his glasses. “Looks like there are four men on there, Merlin. Engage or no?”

“Yes, engage, we need to keep this mess as quiet as possible. After you have taken care of them, have the team search Schaefer’s body, and someone will need to go back to the resort to search his room. We need to know where he kept his work and make sure it, and anyone who knows about it, is taken care of.”

It takes less than five minutes to take down the four unprepared men on the helicopter. One of the extraction team flies off with it, planning to dump it somewhere and head back to the manor on his own. A quick search of Schafer’s body and his room turns up his laptop, his ID, and some notes on the virus.

Within an hour of Holden dying in front of him, they clear Eggsy of infection and he is on his way home. The medic tries to look him over, but he refuses treatment. Instead he stares out the side of the helicopter, his arm wrapped around his ribs and his eyes swollen from his broken nose, seeing Holden choke on his own insides.

—————

 _“You want me to blow you?”_ Holden asks, somehow even with blood and clots of _something_ coming out of his mouth, as he walks towards Eggsy. _“Come on, Eggsy, let me make you feel good. Or, I could fuck you if you’d rather. We can see if my bollocks have turned to blood too.”_

Eggsy backs up, terrified to turn his back to Holden. Terrified he will touch Eggsy and then Eggsy will be the one choking on the remains of his own stomach. As he walks backwards he reaches behind himself, hoping to encounter a doorknob or something. Holden reaches out to him, a hand brushing Eggsy’s cheek.

Eggsy reacts. And wakes.  His heart monitor is screaming, and he has Harry pinned to the wall behind his medical bed, one his hands holding Harry’s arm twisted behind his back while his other hand has snaked around Harry’s front to hold him by the throat.

“Harry?” Eggsy asks, confused.

“My apologies, Eggsy, as someone who has woken up disoriented in medical before, I should have known better than to touch you.” Harry’s speech is hoarse since Eggsy has not stopped squeezing his throat. “Do you think you could let me go now? I intended no harm.”

Eggsy drops his hands and steps back, sitting down on the edge of the bed while he watches Harry turn around to face him while rubbing his arm. Eggsy looks down at himself, shirtless with wrapped ribs, bruised leg, a bandaged hand, and a broken nose. For a few blessed minutes he cannot remember what put him in medical and then it comes back. 

Holden, the fight, the virus. 

His dream. 

Eggsy pushes Harry out of the way as he bolts for the loo. Eggsy is emptying his stomach when he hears Harry come in behind him. 

“Fuck _off_ , Harry, Jesus.”

Harry doesn’t listen to him. He kneels down, pressing a cool flannel into Eggsy's skin. Eggsy grabs the flannel from him and then retches again. He wipes his mouth.

“Did you lose your hearing along with your fucking eye? Fucking piss off, yeah?”

“Eggsy, I am just…”

Eggsy stands up too quick and grabs the wall as a wave of dizziness hits him. Harry reaches out to steady him but Eggsy pushes him back. 

“I ain’t forgot about you being a massive fucking prick before I left, Harry. You think I need you right now? I don’t. I just watched a fellow agent, someone I… fucking nevermind, I need someone who gives a damn about me. I certainly don’t want you to feel you have to _hold my hand_ or anything.”

Harry looks down at his feet. “I’ll admit I wasn’t at my best that day.”

“No, Harry, I'm not in the mood to listen to your self-deprecating ‘I’m sorry’s’ right now. I’ll ask you to leave one more time. Please leave, Harry, before I say something I won’t be able to take back.”

“Eggsy…”

“Goddamnit,” Eggsy sobs as he punches his already injured hand against the tiled wall. “Please, Harry,” he says, his eyes red and pleading, “please.” Eggsy drops back on to the floor, cradling his hand.

“I’ll go. I’ll send someone in to see about that hand.”

Eggsy leans against the wall and sobs.

————— 

Harry sends a nurse to Eggsy and walks to his office. Eggsy’s words etch themselves into his brain.

_You think I need you right now? I don’t. You think I need you right now? I don’t._

_Need you… I don’t… need you._

Harry sits at his desk, reaches into the bottom drawer for the bottle he keeps there. Finding it, he pulls it out, takes a drink, and promptly spits it out. It’s cold, over-steeped tea. He then notices the scrap of paper taped to it. 

 _My handlers don’t drink at work. Come to your station drunk and I will see that you_ are _a fucking janitor. All my fucking love - Hamish_

Harry drops the bottle in the bin next to his desk. He had planned on staying overnight here, to watch over, or offer comfort to, Eggsy while he was in medical. However, that idea had went down in flames spectacularly. Harry knows in his rational mind, he _knows,_ that he was an unmitigated arsehole the other day because Harry was seething with anger and jealousy over something that Eggsy, a grown man who is handsome and single, has every right to do, i.e., get fucked stupid by someone who isn’t even _worth_ …

Harry takes a deep breath, unclenching the fists he has formed unconsciously by his sides. In Harry’s head, Eggsy’s tear stained face keeps switching places with the one he made when he came for Holden until Harry doesn’t know if he wants to march right back into that room and hug Eggsy until the boy knows how much he loves him or throw Eggsy face down on the bed to show him what it feels like when someone who knows what the fuck he is doing gives him a proper seeing to. 

He paces the floor in front of the large window that takes up almost the entire east side of his office. The lamps that give the room’s rich woods a golden glow make it hard for him to see out the window with any accuracy but he is sure he sees eight small lights dancing in the dark.

_“Holy shit, Harry. We got hinkypunks out there!_

_“I beg your pardon,” Harry said, confused._

_“Hinky… you know,” Eggsy gestures with his hands. “them things in Harry Potter that have one foot and carry a lantern and lead people into the swamp and all.”_

_“I am afraid I don’t.”_

_Eggsy hands Harry his jacket that he had placed there when they had come in._

_“What’s this for, are we going somewhere?”_

_“The fucking shops, get you the whole set. What kind of proper Englishman are you? Haven’t even read_ Harry Potter _,” he throws up his hands, “I ask you.”_

Harry sighs, at both the memory and the fact that the lights means that Merlin is putting the new candidates for the Bedivere position, although now they will have to have one for Geraint as well, through their paces so he is unavailable to have a drink with Harry and tell him what an idiot he is.  
Other than Geraint putting his cock where it didn’t belong, Harry has to admit he was a decent agent, decent enough that it will be a loss to the agency. The vindictive side of him, however, is gleeful over the fact that he will never touch Eggsy again. 

Percival is on a mission, and with James gone, and Eggsy fed up with him, it means that Harry is out of pocket for people he can grab a drink with. He doesn’t make friends, or keep them easily. Most people, except for the aforementioned, find Harry to be wonderful at first, but soon find his moodiness, “tendency” towards possessiveness, and temper to be just a shade too much to be going on with. Somehow, he snagged and kept Merlin, because, according to Merlin “ _I’m as much of a social fuckup as you are, so it’s not like you playing grabby hands with me like Mr. Pickle and that damn smelly mouse toy he carries everywhere, will piss anyone off. Besides, I'll knock on your arse if you become too fucking annoying,”_ which he did when Harry knowingly cock-blocked him from taking home a divine young Italian man because Harry was in a strop about not finding anyone _he_ wanted to go home with. James and Alistair somehow just fell into Harry’s life and refused to budge from it. Harry, for all his possessiveness, is thrilled that Merlin is seeing Alistair now. Merlin is so far from James it is almost nonsensical, but he still thinks they will probably be together forever, or until Alistair is the one who doesn’t come home. 

So Harry is stuck, lonely, out of sorts, and angry at himself for fucking himself out of a wonderful night of having Eggsy staring adoringly at him while Harry dotes upon him. 

 _Fuck this_ , he thinks. 

Later, when he is fucking the rent boy he picked because he could be Eggsy’s brother in the right light, and the lamp in a shitty hotel _is_ the right light, he thinks that this is far better than having a drink with friends. After all, for the same amount of money he would have spent on alcohol, which he already has at home, he can spend a nice long while with a lovely pair of ankles around his ears and the soft, wet clench of an arsehole around his cock. 

He doesn’t need Eggsy either. 

—————

He fucking misses Eggsy.

Eggsy left medical three days ago and did so without even stopping by Harry’s office or station. In the two days he had still been here he had requested that Harry not be allowed in. 

Cedric turned Harry away twice before his pride kept him from going back.

His pride, however, did not keep him from hacking into Eggsy’s medical records. 

Eggsy has three bruised ribs that has him out of the manor for a week, and off of field work for two more. The bruising on his leg was just that, impact bruising, with no actual wound. His nose had set, although during the glimpse Harry got of him the other day, he was still looking a little worse for wear from it, plus he opened the wound and injured his hand further when he punched the wall. So home for a week, in the manor for at least two with no missions. That gives Harry three weeks to make sure Eggsy forgives him. 

Not being allowed to see the boy is simply intolerable, he will not stand for it. 

————

 _This takes the fucking cake_ , Eggsy thinks to himself as he sulks around the flat. Banned from the manor for a week, and then he will grounded there for at least two weeks. It will be hard as fuck to avoid Harry, since Eggsy, four weeks ago, in the grips of a mighty need to be as close to Harry as possible, specifically got Bors to switch offices with him so he was only two office doors away. If it wasn’t for Lamorak being a fucking prick, he’d be right next to the man. 

The thing is, he doesn’t _want_ to avoid Harry, but he knows from years of watching his mum with Dean that he has to set boundaries, lay down rules, or he will get his arse taken advantage of. If he lets Harry back into his life with some _I’m a fucking prick when I am mad_ apology Harry will think that is all it takes fix things. 

But, in all honesty, with the way he is feeling, all he wants is to be with Harry, at Harry’s house, with Harry playing that soft jazz he likes in the background, bringing Eggsy his tea, and doting on him like a besotted husband. He meant it when he told Harry no one had ever done nothing like that for him, and just that little taste of it addicted him to it. Now, he wants to lay his head on Harry’s lap while Harry pets his hair. He wants fall asleep knowing that someone has everything under control if something goes wrong, knowing he can rest. Eggsy can rest here but mum and Daisy might come over, or Ryan and Jamal, and then Eggsy has to play his part. At Harry’s he can just _be_. 

Plus, he can imagine that Harry really is his besotted boyfriend or husband or whatever, and before bed, in deference to Eggsy’s healing body, Harry would be a dear and blow him to sleep. 

_Want me to blow you?_

Eggsy jumps, dropping the tea he had in his hand onto the floor. He scrubs his good hand down his face before grabbing a towel so he can very carefully bend down to clean it up. 

Fucking Holden, always so fucking cocky. Talking to the killer doc like they was friends or something. It makes him realize that he, Holden, and the younger agents, Rox included, all act like they are invincible, like that bulletproof suit is _death_ proof. It could have just as easily been Eggsy bleeding his life out his arsehole in the snow because Eggsy can’t say he wouldn’t have been a little shit the same way. 

Maybe he does need to speak to Harry, lay down those fucking rules most defo, but speak to him nonetheless. Next time could be Eggsy’s time, and he doesn’t want Harry feeling like he did after the Church. 

He’ll figure it out in the morning. His medication is making him sleepy and all he can think of is crawling into his bed. He slogs up the stairs to his bed only to stop when he sees it unmade and the sheets he and Holden fucked on still balled up on the floor from where he didn’t make time to wash them before he left. 

He sleeps on the couch.

—————

Eggsy waits two days before he decides to talk to Harry. During those two days he had received four texts from him, all asking him for a chance to explain, a chance to make this right between them. He did not respond to any of them. Today his phone has been silent, a sign that Harry is trying to honor his wishes, which means tonight is the night.

 _Hey,_ he types, _feel like some company in about an hour?_

Harry texts back almost immediately. _Yes, of course, I would. I’ll send a car._

_Nah, Harry. I’ll take the tube._

_Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to be overexerting yourself._

Eggsy doesn’t text back. Five minutes later he gets another text.

_I’m sorry._

Eggsy pinches his bottom lip in between his teeth. _I’ll grab us something to eat. Have the kettle on._

 _Yes._ A few seconds later. _Thank you._

Eggsy barely raps his knuckles on the door a second time before Harry is opening it. He is wearing a black cardigan with dark slacks. His hair, threaded through with silver, is loose around his head and he has traded his glasses for his eye patch. Eggsy wants to push him into a corner and bite his collar bone. He wants to see if the hollow of his throat smells the same as behind his ear. He wants to know what Harry’s tongue tastes like when it rubs against his. 

“Eggsy? Is there something wrong?”

He shakes himself and strategically holds the takeout bag. 

“Nah, bruv, sometimes the meds just makes me spacey,” he says, twirling his finger around his ear while walking into the house and to the kitchen. 

“Eggsy, now I know we plan to mend fences tonight,” Harry looks abashed, “but I cannot stress to you how much I hate being called ‘bruv.’”

He sets the takeout on the counter. “Consider it your ten Hail, Marys, or would you prefer Haz? Hazizzle? DubH?” Eggsy owes it all to Kingsman that he is able to ask this without laughing. 

Harry looks pained but clears his throat. “If this are my choices than yes, I would prefer ‘bruv.’” Harry is making the same face he made when Eggsy suggested dunking his chips in his milkshake. One part horror, one part disgust, and a third part resignation. 

“Good to know.”

They plate their food and head to the table, making small talk while they eat. Harry fills Eggsy in on what has been going on at the manor for the past four days, nothing, and asks after Eggsy’s days, which are also filled with nothing. The conversation is lacking, he’ll admit, but they stumble along anyway, neither of them wanting to have it out over curry.

Soon Eggsy is sitting back and pushing his plate away. Harry jumps up to clear the table.

“If you would like, go make yourself comfortable, and I will bring the tea.”

Eggsy stands up slowly, wincing as he straightens out. Harry is right there at his elbow to steady him. 

“I’m ok, Harry. It’s just time for my meds and I tripped on the tube stairs, jostled myself.”

“See, I told you…" Harry snaps his mouth shut. "Yes. Perhaps you should come into medical tomorrow and have them take a look.”

“If it’s still bothering me in the morning, I will, yeah?”

Harry nods and once he sees that Eggsy is fine on his own, leaves him to go fetch the tea. Eggsy settles himself on Harry’s fussy, but insanely comfy, sofa with a pillow propped next to his ribs for support. Harry brings in the tea, fixes both his and Eggsy’s before settling back into the opposite corner of the sofa.

“Eggsy, I was wondering if you would permit me to speak first.”

Eggsy has no issue with this because he knows what Harry will say, and it will only illustrate his point. 

“Sure, Harry.”

“Good, thank you. I know my behavior the day of, and the day preceding, your mission to Igls was wretched and for that I have no excuse. I was going through some,” Harry’s jaw clenches and his eye narrows, “personal issues and I took it out on you.” He does a sheepish half smile, “we all know how I am when I am angry about something. All I can do is apologize and hope that you will forgive an old man his moods.”

Despite knowing it was coming, the pat apology that he is sure Harry means in his most Harry of ways, still pisses Eggsy right the fuck off. His voice is ice and granite. “I have no issue forgiving you, I’m used to forgiving people I care about when they hurt me, yeah?” Harry looks at him as if he had slapped the man, which he was considering. “But what you just said, that’s what I _can’t_ forgive.” He sets his tea down and pulls his track jacket around him. Bespoke may be the new knight's armor, but Eggsy always feels safest in his Adidas. He crosses his arms. “See, it’s always you coming to me _after_ you’ve acted like a fucking dick and saying how sorry you are about acting like that but it’s because you were in a shit mood. 

“Well, here’s a little news for you, everyone has shit fucking moods, Harry, but they don’t take it out on their friends. Before you went and got your skull aerated you tell me what a disappointment I am, but that’s ok because you were angry. Then once you wake up and you’re my handler, you throw my background at me like it’s something to be ashamed of, which it ain’t…”

“Eggsy, listen…”

“No, you listen. Anyways, you excuse that by saying your were angry again…”

“Which you said you forgave me for, both times if I remember correctly, so I don’t see why your are bringing them up now, unless that is your way of resolving differences, is to trot out every slight within our shared history,” Harry says, his voice rising in volume.

"For fuck’s sake,” Eggsy struggles to his feet. “No, sit the fuck down," he says as Harry stands as well, "I got this. Me coming here was a mistake. You can’t even let me finish speaking before you’re running all over me." Eggsy walks towards the door. 

“That’s because I don’t understand what the devil the issue is. I was an arsehole, and I apologized. What more do you want from me?” Harry asks, standing, grabbing his cane and following Eggsy to the door.

Eggsy turns a little too sharply making himself gasp before he advances on Harry. Harry does not retreat. “I want you to have the enough respect for me that you let me finish what the fuck I am saying and actually _listen_ to it. I want you to agree that instead of flying off the handle and being a fucking cock when your knickers are in a twist, you will make an effort to realize it’s not everyone else’s fault so you don’t say a bunch of shite you have to apologize for later. I want you to treat me like I am someone who is worth something to you.”

“Of course you are worth something to me. You are worth more than you know.”

“Then treat me like it now and then, yeah? Because I ain’t going to keep forgiving you, Harry.”

“So to keep you in my life I have to conform to your little ground rules. Is that what you want?”

“What I want is to know that the man I love will not treat me like shit and then expect me to just forget about it. I’m not my mum, I'm not going take a punch and then tell myself you won’t do it again, yeah?”

Harry stares at him. “Pardon? The man you what?”

Eggsy goes over what he said in his head. _The man I love_ …

“Fuck.” He looks at Harry, his anger fizzling out and fear taking its place. Fear that what he said will ruin any chance of them having their old relationship back, more than Harry’s obvious anger issue ever would. 

“Just pretend you didn’t hear that. We can talk again when we are both in a better frame of mind, ok?” Eggsy blinks back frustrated tears. Not only does his meds make him spacey, but Jesus fuck if they don’t turn him into an emotional toe rag. 

“Did you say that you love me?”

 _Play it cool, Unwin. Harry is a fucking gentleman who is not interested in some little street rat like yourself. Friends are what you can be, that’s it._ Fix _this_.

“Yeah, yeah, course I love you, Haz,” he replies, trying for his trademark cheeky wink.

Harry crosses the two feet still between them. He gets right up in Eggsy's personal space. “I don’t think that is what you meant, Eggsy. I am still me, even down an eye. I can see your pulse racing from here. Your eyes are dilated in either fear or arousal, possibly both, and you flinched when you realized what you said.” Harry places one hand on his cheek, his thumb stroking back and forth against Eggsy’s skin. 

“Harry, it don’t have to mean nothing,” Eggsy says, his voice hushed. 

“There is where you are wrong, darling.” Eggsy’s eyes snap back to Harry’s face, still unsure. Harry smiles. He smiles that true smile that shows all his teeth, the one that makes the skin around his eyes crinkle and his dimples show, the one that doesn’t come out that often, but when it does, it is _blinding_. He leans down until their faces are just inches apart. His breath smells like Earl Grey and Eggsy’s mouth is dry. He licks his lips. Harry looks down, following the motion. His pupil dilates a little further. His hand slides around Eggsy’s neck pulling him in until their lips brush, just barely. “It means the entire world.”

Harry kisses him. 

He kisses him and kisses him and Eggsy realizes that Harry is right. 

It _is_ the entire world. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments :) They mean the world!
> 
> I have edited this chapter close to a trillion times and still keep finding shit I missed (including a continuity error I was able to fix) so please, let me know if you see something. I am dealing with a pinched nerve so I am not even close to top form right now :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Eggsy get naked. Eggsy gets hit in the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 got out a little later than I had hoped and Chapter 5 took less time to edit, so have both :)

If Eggsy had known all it took to bring Harry to heel, so to speak, was to let him suck on Eggsy’s tongue for a little while, he would have tried it while the man was still in a hospital bed. Harry has Eggsy pressed up against the front door, a thigh shoved between his legs, and the simmering anger that was just sparking between them is quickly becoming a very different heat. 

Eggsy tangles his good hand in that soft, thick, chocolate and silver hair. Harry’s hand is still on the back of Eggsy’s neck where it keeps squeezing his nape in small, unconscious movements. Eggsy thinks his eyes will end up coming right back up to the front from how far they are rolled back into his head. They are humping each other like two teenagers and Eggsy is pretty sure than moaning that is filling the foyer is coming from him.

It is. 

He cannot be fucking arsed to care. Not when Harry takes his mouth from his and drags his teeth down Eggsy’s neck. Not when, even for all of Harry’s suave bravado, the man trembles against him. Not when Harry moves his hands to Eggsy's arse, lifts slightly, and Eggsy jumps to help him. 

And then promptly cries out because his bruised ribs protest. 

His fucking life. 

“Oh, shit, my apologies, Eggsy,” Harry says as he steps back, leaving Eggsy suddenly cold, outrageously turned on, and somehow still fucking mad.

Eggsy breathes in through his mouth and out through his nose. Twice. It really does fuckall. Harry looks fucking fantastic. Hair fucked from Eggsy’s hands, mouth red, eye glittering, and an erection trapped within his trousers that makes Eggsy’s mouth water. Eggsy is thankful for his ribs because if he was able, he would bang Harry like a barn door in a high wind all night tonight. And then spend tomorrow regretting it. Mostly. A least a little. 

“Nah, it’s good Harry. We should talk about all of this,” Eggsy says gesturing between them. “But I don’t think it should be tonight. I got a lot of conflicting emotions going on right now and I need my meds, which are at my flat.”

Harry looks like he is about to argue, but thinks better of it. “At least allow me to call you a cab. You shouldn’t be walking so far in your,” Harry looks pointedly at Eggsy’s trousers, “condition.”

Eggsy laughs. “Yeah, all right.”

Harry calls the shop to send a cab over to take him home. As they wait, they trade more kisses, not heated ones like earlier, but small ones, interspersed with them just standing together, breathing the other in. 

“Eggsy,” Harry asks, as the cab pulls up, “would it be possible to see you again tomorrow night? I could come to yours after work and bring dinner. We could finish our discussion.”

“Yes, Harry. Just text to make sure I am not all passed out, yeah? And give me time to get the other blokes I am kissing out of the house.”

Harry stiffens and steps back.

“Bruv, I ain’t kissing anyone else and I don’t plan on it neither, so pull the knickers out.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Harry opens the door and walks Eggsy to the cab. “Until tomorrow,” he says before he presses one more kiss to Eggsy’s lips. 

—————

The next morning Harry is out of bed before the alarm sounds but he suspects that is mostly because of the raging erection he is sporting. He ignores it. At his age he would rather risk not getting off with Eggsy tonight than to get himself off now and suffer for it later. Besides, a nice low level arousal flowing through him is enough of a novelty since being shot that it is more of something to enjoy rather than to find annoying. Just makes him look forward to tonight even more.

Last night was a revelation. When he realized he could _have_ Eggsy, that Eggsy did not care about what he had become, he was all in. Harry fully intends to agree to whatever Eggsy wants him to so he can get his hands back on him. He can attempt to act like less of an arsehole. He never has, of course, but it can’t be that hard with the incentive given to him. Namely Eggsy in his bed.

And, if he is being honest, and he always is with himself at least, it’s not even about the sex, or his feelings, although those are definitely a goodly sized part, it’s about having the boy’s adoring eyes back on him. Seeing Eggsy see him, Agent Galahad, not Handler Ryence. Seeing Eggsy hang on every word of whatever story he is telling about former glories in the field. Seeing other people look at him like he matters when he is taking care of a broken, post-mission Eggsy.

It gives him purpose again, and that is something he needs more than anything, more than Eggsy, more than Kingsman. Without purpose he is nothing. 

He will do whatever he needs to in order to keep it.

—————

Eggsy greets Harry at the door in his favorite tight, but not indecent, jeans, and a grey jumper. He is barefoot though, because if they end up in bed later, Eggsy would rather skip the whole hopping about to remove shoes thing. He takes the takeout, fish and chips he notes, from Harry while Harry takes his own shoes off and rolls the socks into them. 

“You don’t have to do that Harry, I just prefer barefoot, me.”

Harry smiles, his dimples show. “When in Rome, Eggsy. I do hope fish and chips are acceptable. I seem to remember you mentioning a place near your old flat that you liked, so I went there.”

“Shut up,” Eggsy says as he sticks his face in a bag, inhaling. “Fuck, Harry, you don’t have to get on my good side.”

“Never hurts to score a few extra points.” 

Harry comes to close to Eggsy, his face looking just a touch uncertain. “I would very much like to kiss you hello, but I am a little afraid you may have rethought your feelings since last night.”

“You’re daft, Harry. Nothing can change the way I feel about you, yeah?” Eggsy threads his fingers around Harry’s tie, pulling him down for a kiss. It’s light, and comfortable, and after a few moments Harry pulls away and places his hand at the small of Eggsy’s back to push him gently towards the sofa. “Go get everything out of the bags, I’ll fetch some plates.” Harry takes off his jacket, hanging it on the hooks by the door, lays his cane in the corner, and rolls up his sleeves. 

“Harry, you’ve never been here before, the plates are…”

“Eggsy,” Harry says, looking unimpressed, “I have been a spy longer than you have been alive. I am positive I can find my way around your kitchen.” He walks to the kitchen while rolling up his sleeves. Eggsy takes a moment to admire the fit of the black and gray pinstripe trousers around Harry’s arse. 

“Right, but if you take too long I cannot be held responsible if all the food disappears,” he replies, stealing a chip and ignoring the way it burns his fingers. 

By the time they finish eating the coffee table has greasy napkins all over it and all that remains of the food is the slight scent of vinegar in the air. Eggsy leans back, full and happy. He notices Harry watching him out of the corner of his eye. 

“I got something on my face?”

“No, I was just admiring the view.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “That line always work?”

“Usually,” Harry answers, leaning back and crossing his legs with a sigh. “I suppose, although I would rather move on to more entertaining activities, we should finish the discussion that we were having last night. I hope that we can keep from yelling at each other, however.”

“Of course we can, just listen to me and everything will be aces.”

“Oh, to be sure,” Harry says as he gets up to cross over to the bar, his hands reaching out to steady himself on the surrounding furniture since he left his cane at the door. He pours himself a drink, a serviceable scotch that Eggsy knows isn’t Harry’s normal standards, but Eggsy isn’t spending a weeks pay on a bottle of anything unless it comes with a naked person attached, and brings Eggsy a fresh drink as well. Eggsy looks longingly at the bar and then back down at his plain soda water. He wrinkles his nose.

“Listen, it’s not that big of a deal.” He starts as Harry sits down again. “All I am asking of you is that you don’t take your shitty day out on me, yeah? Put that whole 'Manners Maketh Man' shit into practice.”

Harry smirks. "I can’t promise I won’t make a mistake and do so.

“I’m not asking you to make any promises, Harry. I am just asking that you do your best. I ain't going to be your punching bag. You don’t get to call me names, or shut me out, or whatever you think is the best way to get a little of your own back that day, when you are mad about something. You got a problem with me, we talk about it when we can both discuss it like adults. You got a problem with someone else, you go take it out of their arse, or go to the range, or polish Merlin’s skull on the sparing mats.”

“I’ll make sure to share that suggestion with him and let him know it’s from you.”

Eggsy’s eyes widen. “You wouldn’t.”

“I might. Perhaps not now, but a Kingsman always keeps little tidbits like that close to use at the most opportune times. I am sure it will come in handy at a later date.”

“Whatever. Anyway, that was all I was saying. I won’t put up with it as your friend, and I certainly won’t put up with it as someone you are sleeping with either, you get me?”

“I get you, Eggsy, and I will make a very concerted effort to watch my temper and not be an arsehole.”

“That’s all I’m asking, is that you think about what you say instead of just spitting out the utter shit you normally say.”

Harry nods, thoughtful. “Now, I have something to ask of you,” Harry says, regarding Eggsy over the rim of his glass.

“Me? This was about your attitude, bruv. I ain’t done anything to apologize for.”

“True, but for my own edification, I would like to know what you intend for this,” Harry thinks for a moment, “new development between us.”

“Intend? Am I dating your daughter now?”

“No, Eggsy, but you are, or will be, dating me and I don’t fancy having my heart broke in two months time when you realize dating an old man isn’t all you thought it would be.” Harry is no longer looking at Eggsy, his eyes fixed somewhere on Eggsy’s knees.

“I know how I feel about you, and I know what I am getting into with dating you.”

“Do you? Do tell.” Harry’s cheeks are pink, although from anger or embarrassment, Eggsy cannot tell.

“Listen, I know you have some issues,” Harry snorts, in a most un-Harry way, into his drink muttering _issues_. “ And I know it ain’t going to be easy. I’m young, you’re old. We are going to clash, Harry, we're too different not to, but that don’t mean we can’t work. I guess we just have to ask ourselves if we are willing to try.”

“And are you?”

“I’ve never been more willing to try anything. Except maybe free jumping. But I doubt being with you is going to end up with me in a hospital, right?”

“You’re absurd, Eggsy. Getting involved with an old man like me.”

Eggsy moves across the sofa and crawls into Harry’s lap. The fingers of his good hand once again winding their way around Harry’s tie. Harry’s hands come up to grasp his hips, squeezing as he spreads his legs just a little further, bringing their groins together. “Well, being absurd has worked for me so far, so I don’t see much of a reason to change.” Harry looks up at him, still looking a little unsure, and Eggsy wants to prove to him that he knows what he is getting in to. He reaches up and pulls Harry’s glasses off. 

“Eggsy, no, I don’t have my patch.” Harry reaches up and grips Eggsy’s hand, stopping him.

“I know, and I need you to understand that I don’t care about any of this, yeah? Let go.”

Harry does, and Eggsy pulls off the glasses. Harry’s eyelid is closed, permanently scarred over and soft over his empty socket. He keeps is good eye closed too, not wanting to see Eggsy’s reaction to the ruin of his face. He jumps slightly when Eggsy puts his lips over the lid. 

“You are gorgeous, Harry. Now kiss me and give my arse a good grope before we head up to bed.”

Minutes later Eggsy and Harry are stretched out on Eggsy’s bed, gloriously naked, and rutting like teenagers. Harry’s long body is between Eggsy’s thighs and it’s even better than he imagined. His entire world centers around the smell of Harry’s cologne, the feel of his cock hardening next to Eggsy’s, and Harry kissing him like he is a treasure. He’s shaking just a little.

“Are you cold, darling?”

Eggsy huffs a little laugh. “I’m just a little overwhelmed that I am finally in bed with you, and I am so fucking turned on I might bust a vein.”

“We should do something about that then,” Harry says as he kisses him again, his hand sliding down Eggsy’s chest, petting his sore ribs. “But we do have to be careful with these. I suppose that means my dreams of folding you in half and fucking you until you’re incoherent will have to wait.”

Eggsy rubs himself against Harry unconsciously. “Harry, fuck…”

“Not tonight, darling, but I am sure we can still find some way to enjoy ourselves.” Harry grabs a pillow from behind Eggsy’s head. “Be a dear and roll over for me,” he says, slipping it underneath Eggsy’s hips as he does so. He places Eggsy’s hands above his head. “Is this comfortable for you? Can you keep your hands there for me?”

“Yes, Harry, anything.”

Harry very gently lays himself back down against Eggsy, still keeping most of his weight off of Eggsy’s ribs. He beings kissing Eggsy’s shoulders and the back of his neck while his cock slots in between Eggsy’s arse cheeks making him arch up into Harry when it drags over the sensitive skin of his hole. He ignores the ache in his ribs. 

Harry moans into his skin when Eggsy pushes back against him. “Fuck, Eggsy,” he says before scraping his teeth across the back of Eggsy’s neck. “You are testing my resolve.”

“Good, I want your cock in me.”

“That is too bad, darling, you won’t have it until those ribs are better. However, I was wondering,” Harry licks a path down Eggsy’s spine, making him arch again and hiss, “if anyone has ever eaten you out until you cried before?” Harry straightens up, kneeling back and kneading Eggsy’s arse with his large hands. He keeps holding Eggsy open and Eggsy knows Harry is looking right at his arsehole, watching it as he clenches helplessly with anticipation. 

“Oh, god.”

“I’ll take that as no then. Is that something that would interest you, darling? Did you clean yourself throughly before I came over, just hoping you would get me in your bed?” Harry’s thumbs caress over him, pushing just slightly, dry and hot and good. 

Eggsy answers, but it comes back muffles because he has buried his face in the mattress under him. Harry’s thumbs retreat and then push back just a little harder.

“What was that?”

Eggsy lifts his head. “Yes, Harry, I did. Please.”

“You tart, I was so hoping that was what you said.” His hands stop for a moment. “What is your opinion on spanking, I wonder,” he says, more to himself Eggsy thinks, as to anyone, as he lightly taps one cheek to watch it jiggle. “Your arse is practically made for me to slap until it is all red and warm for me.” 

“Jesus,” Eggsy says into the sheets. He is one step away from coming and Harry has barely even touched him.

Harry laughs and then shuffles back, moving to lie between Eggsy’s thighs. He continues massaging Eggsy before kissing down on the back of one thigh. He holds Eggsy open once more, caressing him again with his thumbs. Eggsy is just about to beg when finally Harry drags his tongue from Eggsy's bollocks to the top of his arse. 

“Perfect,” Harry says before he dives back in. His tongue gently circles Eggsy’s hole, dipping in just barely, every third go around. Before long Eggsy is pushing back against Harry’s face every time the tip dips in, trying to get more of it in him while pushing forward on the pillow under him, rubbing his cock all over it. Harry’s hands hold him down and open with more force. 

“Now, Eggsy, if you don’t stop squirming I will have to stop so you don’t hurt yourself. Be a good boy and lie still for me. Can you do that?” he asks before putting his mouth back on Eggsy.

“Yes,” Eggsy pants, “yes, just, fuck,” he cries when Harry pushes more of his tongue in, “just don’t stop.”

“No intention of it as long as you behave.”

And if Eggsy said Harry talking to him like that did not make him leak all over the place, he would be a fucking liar. Eggsy is humping humping his pillow like a naughty puppy while Harry sticks what feels to be a six inch long tongue straight up him. 

“Harry, Harry…” Eggsy chants. Harry removes his mouth from Eggsy, slipping two fingers slowly into Eggsy’s soft, loosened arsehole. He comes up to drape himself over Eggsy’s back.

“Yes?” He responds as he bites at Eggsy’s shoulders. His fingers slide in and out of Eggsy, all the more intense because of the lack of actual lube. Eggsy doesn’t care, at this point he would let Harry fuck him dry, he is so close to coming. 

“I’m going to come, don’t stop, please.”

“You gorgeous creature, come on my hand so I can feel that tight little hole of yours suck me in.” Harry leans back over Eggsy as his fingers go deeper, twisting slightly.

“Fuck, fuck…”

Harry’s forehead rests against the back of Eggsy’s head and he is breathing like he is the one getting finger fucked into oblivion. His cock rests against Eggsy’s right arse cheek. Eggsy can feel wetness from it trickling down his skin towards where Harry buries his fingers in him, and it sends Eggsy over the edge.

“Oh, fuck,” he yells as he comes, clenching down on Harry’s fingers.

“Yes, Eggsy, so perfect,” he whispers as he fingers Eggsy through it. As soon as Eggsy stops shaking Harry moves back between his thighs, pushing his cock back into the cleft of Eggsy’s arse, and thrusting against him. He leans down to talk into Eggsy’s ear while Eggsy pushes back against him. Neither care about Eggsy’s ribs now.

“I cannot wait to get my cock into this tight little hole of yours. I will fuck you until you can’t move and then come so far inside you that I’ll be dripping out of you for days. Would you like that?” Harry takes one of Eggsy’s hands from above his head and brings it behind him to his arse while Harry kneels up again.  “Hold yourself open for me, Eggsy,” he says as they each use one hand pull Eggsy open. “Just because I can’t fuck you, doesn’t mean I can’t get my come in you.”

Harry puts the tip of his cock against Eggsy’s loosened hole, pushing in just enough to seal it around his slit. With the hand that is not on Eggsy’s arse, he pulls at himself, quickly. Within moments Eggsy feels Harry's come pumping into him and down his bollocks while Harry groans out his name behind him. It’s filthy and dirty and hot and he knows he will wank to the memory of this for years.

Harry collapses next to him and Eggsy immediately tuns on his side to curl up to him, his hand trailing through Harry’s chest hair. What come Harry actually got in him is leaking out, his ribs ache, and his pubic hair is already feeling like it is sticking to his skin. 

Eggsy lays his head against Harry’s chest. _Fucking aces_.

—————

Harry is watching the feed from Eggsy’s glasses as he runs down a street in the middle of some tiny village in Russia, chasing a mark who has photos that could be very damaging to a member of government if they were to get out. On Harry’s other monitor he is watching satellite feed of the surrounding streets. Eggsy is less than three steps behind the man when he leaps into the air to tackle him and Harry spills his boiling tea on his legs. He flies out of his chair, swearing, his legs burning. 

Merlin hurries over. “What the fuck is going on Ryence?”

“Jesus, I’ve just spilled my tea is all.” 

Merlin looks at the mess of Harry’s trousers before flicking his eyes up to Harry’s screen. They widen as he pushes Harry out of the way so quickly that Harry loses his already precarious balance. “Fucking hell, Harry. I don’t care if your legs are melting off, you do not look away from the screen.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asks, but Merlin is paying him no mind. He looks up at the monitors from where he is still sitting on the floor to see that Eggsy’s glasses are on the ground and they are showing him a full view of Eggsy laying opposite of them, eyes shut with blood trickling from his mouth. He goes cold.

“Bors, Gaheris is one mile away from your position. He needs extraction immediately.”

“On it, Merlin.” 

“I am alerting the Moscow branch that you both will stop by for medical attention before coming home.”

Merlin swings back around in the chair to face him. He jabs a long finger at the screens. “This is why you never take your eyes off of them. Ever. If the manor is burning down around your goddamn ears, you still finish the goddamn mission. They depend on us to get them home safe.”

“Merlin, I…”

“Go the fuck home, Harry. I’ll contact you when I know something.”

“I really don’t think that is necessary.”

“You will go or I will remove you. Your choice.”

Merlin stands up and offers Harry a hand to help him do the same. Harry angrily smacks it away and struggles to his feet, grabs his cane, and leaves Avalon, heading for his office until he remembers that thanks to that bald fuck he calls a best friend he doesn’t have alcohol there. And for the love of God, he needs a fucking drink. He calls the garage to request a cab home, one that has a fully stocked bar. He plans to hatefuck the bottle, or bottles, depending on traffic, all the way home.

Within moments of slipping inside the cab he is sipping an overpriced scotch. His anger is causing the normal tremor that he has to become so pronounced that the alcohol is all but jumping in the glass. _Fuck sipping_ , he thinks and knocks it back. He has to calm the tremors down somehow, doesn’t he? He pours another. 

He cannot believe that Merlin spoke to him like he was some brand new handler. He knows exactly how to do this fucking joke of a goddamn job, thank you very fucking much. Merlin acts like he knows what it is like to be out there, alive by only the skin of your teeth, adrenaline pumping through you, not knowing if the next second would bring your death or your enemy’s. No, all Merlin knows how to do is to sit on his arse safe and sound behind a fucking computer screen, giving orders. Has he ever been other there alone? No. Because he couldn’t fucking hack it.  

Harry, however, does know what it is like to be out there, and he certainly has had to make his own decisions without the voice of a fucking handler in his ear, telling him when to wipe his arse and blow his nose, for fucks sake. If an agent can’t handle himself, he need not be a goddamn agent. 

Eggsy deserves…

 _Jesus_. Harry sags into himself. No, Eggsy didn’t deserve to be on the ground bleeding and Merlin is ten times the Kingsman Harry is. This was exactly what Eggsy was talking about, Harry lashing out at anything convenient, the two most important people in his life this time, because he can. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to dispel his anger. It doesn’t help. 

Harry finishes his drink. That _does_ help. He pours another.

He is worried about Eggsy, of course he is. They have been involved for a few months now and Harry thinks that this might be the happiest he has ever been. They spend most nights together when Eggsy is home, and Harry has been continuing to mold Eggsy into the man he knows Eggsy can be. Fine restaurants, the theatre, the opera, all of these things and more he gives to Eggsy because it is in his power to do so. The boy may have blanched at the extravagance at first, but Harry soon convinced him that he knows best and that he is only doing it for Eggsy’s benefit. 

And, if Eggsy is hurt this time, he will come home with Harry so that he can take care of him as he always does, and they can discuss staying aware when one is chasing down various unsavories. Why the boy would rather go home to his flat to recover is beyond him. Michelle can’t take care of him the way Harry can, and pottering about in his flat all alone, having to take care of himself is just silly. He must see that Harry is the best choice. 

Perhaps they should also discuss not being careless as well. It’s as if Eggsy thinks he is invincible. 

Harry goes back to work the next morning and heads to Avalon where he finds Merlin surveying his domain from the raised podium in the back where he has one of his three desks. Harry shuffles in wearing what he supposes is the appropriate amount of contriteness when he hands Merlin a thermos of tea. 

“Any word on Eggsy since you called last night?” he asks when Merlin deigns to take the tea from him. 

Merlin folds his clipboard to his chest so he can open the thermos and take a drink. “Yes, they just let me know he and Bors are leaving in a few hours. They will be here around seven. Eggsy has a slight concussion. The mark he tackled got the upper hand, clipped him solidly to the head and took off. The blood is from his teeth cutting the inside of his mouth. Gwaine is on his way to find Mr. Popov and retrieve the photos.”

“I am sorry…”

“I know you are, Harry.” Merlin sets the tea down on his desk and goes back to flicking his attention between his clipboard and the monitors of the handler stations around the room. “But I also know that deep down you still think of this job as a lark, as something you don’t need to commit to one hundred percent because it’s not what is really important.”

“Merlin, that is not true.”

“It is. I can see it in your eyes when you come through the door, just before you put that polite face on. I have known you for longer than I care to think about, and if you don’t think I know you better than you know yourself you’re a fucking idiot. But know this, against my better judgement, and for our friendship, you will either pull your head out of your arse or take early retirement. I will not put our agents in danger because the great Galahad thinks that being Ryence is beneath him. You can go home and play house husband for Eggsy.”

The thought of being banned from the manor now that he is entangled with Eggsy terrifies him, especially after the entire Holden debacle. He has to know what Eggsy is doing and who he is talking to.

“I think…”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think to be perfectly honest,” Merlin says, lips pursed. “What I care about is you doing your job, you respecting what your job is, and you giving the agents in your care the same amount of attention that handlers gave you when it was your sorry arse getting shot at. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Gwaine is about to land, you’re running him.” Harry nods and turns to walk to his station. “And thank you for the tea.”

“Are we good then?”

“No, but we will be. At this point, who the fuck else do we have?”

Harry has just finished up with Gwaine when Merlin taps him on the shoulder to let him know Eggsy is in medical. Harry nods once, does one last check in with Gwaine, and then, thankfully, goes to Eggsy.

Dr. Gipson is just finishing up with him when Harry knocks.

“Doctor,” Harry greets as he comes in, “how is our Gaheris?”

Gipson, the old fool who loves Harry beyond all reason, and has since Harry was a newly minted agent, smiles happily at him.

“Fine, fine. It looks like a small concussion, much like Dr. Stepanov said. Gaheris should be with someone for the next few days, but he should be back in fighting shape, providing there are no complications, in a couple weeks.”

“That should be no issue, he will come home with me.”

“Fantastic,” Gipson replies as he stands up to leave. “I will leave him in your capable hands. Good evening.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Eggsy waits until Gipson is out the door. “Nah, Harry I can stay here at the manor, no need to put you out again.”

Harry puts on his very best worried face before coming and staying at the foot of Eggsy’s bed. “Eggsy, please, I would feel so much better if you came home with me, at least for the few days Dr. Gipson wants you watched. It was my carelessness that got you into this situation, allow me to make it up to you.”

“How do you figure that one?”

“I took my eyes away from the monitor when I spilled my tea. In the minutes I was distracted you were injured.”

“I really doubt you watching me would’ve changed the fact that the fucker was stronger than he looked. Accidents happen, especially in the field. You know that as well I as do.”

“Merlin certainly doesn’t agree and neither do I. Please, Eggsy, let me look after you. Isn’t this what boyfriends do for each other?”

“Harry, I can’t run to you every single time I skin my knee.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Because I am a grown man. I don’t need another mum, I already have one.”

Harry feels himself becoming frustrated. Christ, would it kill Eggsy to listen to someone every now and again? Someone who knows what is best?

“Ah, I see,” Harry says, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. “I certainly don’t want to act like your mother. I will leave you to it and will let the staff know to prepare your room here. I will send the pajamas you keep at my house back with the driver who takes me home tonight unless you would like to make your own arrangements.” 

“Harry…”

“You should get some rest, if me saying so isn’t too _motherly_ of me. Good evening, Eggsy.”

“Come on, love, don’t be like that,” Eggsy says, hopping up from the bed and walking towards Harry before he grabs the side of the bed with one hand and his head with the other. 

Harry simply watches him, his gaze impersonal. “See, you are dizzy. You should lie down.”

Eggsy shakes his head to clear it, which only makes him wince once again. “You telling me how to act in medical is fucking rich, it is. The man who refused to ‘rest’ when he woke up from _getting shot in the fucking head_.”

“Good evening, Eggsy. I’ll check back in with you tomorrow.”

“Fucking… will you just wait a second?” Eggsy asks as Harry walks out the door. 

Later that night his phone buzzes at him.

_Are you still mad at me?_

Harry smiles to himself, manipulating Eggsy as he did earlier was regrettable but needed. He had to learn that there were consequences to his actions, and that things would be easier if he would just listen to Harry and trust that he truly knew what was best for Eggsy. He loves Eggsy, more than anyone before him, but sometimes love must be tough to teach. 

_I wasn’t mad, Eggsy, just hurt, I suppose. I so enjoy taking care of you and I thought you enjoyed it as well. Did they prepare your room as I requested?_

_I do, but I have to take care of myself too, you know? People think you’re weak if you let someone mollycoddle you. And no they didn’t because as soon as G found out I wasn’t going home with you he wouldn’t let me leave medical. I think C is guarding the door. I guess I should have listened to you, yeah?_

_Words to live by, Eggsy._

_Smartarse._

Harry sits his phone down without replying, his thumb swiping back and forth through the condensation on his glass. He will press Eggsy to come home with him again tomorrow when he visits him in medical. A night in that place will have changed his mind. Medical, while having some of the most well meaning staff in the manor, was the stuff of nightmares for all agents. The forced inertia, the constant bed checks to make sure no one has snuck out, which they all do, and the constant poking and “vitals checks” are all enough to drive anyone mad, especially someone as energetic as Eggsy. Harry doubts it will take much convincing. 

_Harry?_

_Yes?_

_Oh, I thought you maybe fell asleep. I’m sorry I called you my mum._

_It’s quite alright Eggsy, I’ve been called worse._

_I was wondering if the offer was still open, the one to come stay with you for a few days? Gipson said I needed to have someone near for three days. So tonight is one, and then I could stay with you for two._

_I would feel so much better to have you here, darling._

_Good, I’ll come home with you tomorrow then, and I guess I can come to work with you the next day._

_We can talk about it tomorrow. Get some sleep._

_K. Love you._

_And I you._

Perfect.

—————

Harry comes to fetch Eggsy from medical. He smiles at the nurse, Enide he believes, as he comes through the halls.

“Here to get Gaheris?” she asks. Harry stops himself from rolling his eyes just in time. Why else would he be here? Instead, he keeps his smile in place. 

“I am, is he in his room?” 

“Aye, although he has been trying to get us to let him come visit you all day. He’s pretty when he pouts, I’ll give him that.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her and assesses her as a threat. She’s older than Eggsy, in her mid-forties by the looks of it, but she is still beautiful in a pale, Irish princess sort of way. Her brown hair is still a deep chestnut color and from what Harry can see, she is round and plump in all the places someone would like to squeeze. Harry wonders what attributes Eggsy looks for in a woman.

“Oh, go on with your jealousy,” she says. “I have no designs on your laddie. I think it’s wonderful how you take care of him. I can barely get my husband to bring me a tissue when I am under the weather. And him, he thinks you birthed the moon right out of your arse before you hung it. He’s a careless one though, always looking out for other people but never himself. Lord knows he’s here often enough that I can fill out his chart by memory, so it’s good he has a man like yourself to watch out for him.”

Harry’s smile is no longer forced. He holds his head higher. It _is_ good that Eggsy has him, Harry is pleased that other people see it as well. 

“How has he been today?”

“Still been a little dizzy off and on, and complaining of a headache, which is why we wouldn’t let him come see you, but other than that he seems fine. Just keep him close, although I am sure that won’t be an issue,” she says, winking one brilliant hazel eye at him.

“Not at all. I have taken tomorrow off as well so that Eggsy won’t be alone.”

“Good, if he is still experiencing dizziness, or the headache, by tomorrow night he needs to come back.”

“Understood.”

She waves her hands. “Go get your boy and take him home.”

After they fetch JB from the Kingsman kennels, Harry gets Eggsy home and installs him on the couch. He dims the lights, unpacks the takeaway they picked up, and settles in with Eggsy now wrapped in a blanket and under Harry’s arm, for the night. They eat, and after Eggsy burrows into Harry’s side like a rabbit while they watch a movie.

Eggsy stumbles down stairs the next morning while Harry is cooking breakfast. He is wearing a soft pair of tartan pajama pants and no shirt. Harry is now completely disinterested in breakfast.

Eggsy walks over to the table and sits down. Harry pours him some tea and drops a kiss on the top of his head.

“Good morning, darling.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Eggsy says as his eyes slip shut when he inhales the steam rising from the cup. “Hey, ain’t you got to work today?”

“No, I took the day off.”

“I don’t want you to be missing work because of me and my stupid head.”

“I am not missing work because of your stupid head. I am missing work because I wanted to spend the day with you. I thought I would cook and you could show me how to play that video game you’re always asking me to play.”

“Shut up. Really?”

“I believe in humoring the sick, so yes, really.”

“Aces.” Eggsy rubs at his eyes again. “Can I have something for my head?”

“Is it still bothering you? Perhaps we should go in after all, let them look you over once more.”

“It’s just a headache, babe, swear down.”

“Are you feeling dizzy?” Harry asks as he rummages in his cupboards for some pain relievers.

“Not even a little,” Eggsy answers. Harry is positive he is lying, but he lets it slide.

“We will revisit this conversation later if needed.”

“Anything you say, bruv.”

Harry sighs. “Have I not earned the right to not be called that any longer?”

“I don’t know, what’s the chances of me being humored so much that I get a blowie out of it?” Eggsy smirks. “Also, have I mentioned that that fucking fuzzy grandad cardigan you’re wearing makes me horny as fuck? You look all soft and cuddly in it, all ‘aren’t I just the sweetest man,’ when I know you could kill half the people on the street before I realized you were out of the house before coming home and banging me into next week.”

Harry blinks at him and then glances down at the gray cardigan he is wearing. “I will endeavor to remember that, but flattery will get you no where, darling. No sex for you, of any sort, until you are free from pain and dizziness.”

“So what I am hearing is that there’s a possibility.”

A few hours later Harry is throwing the console controller to the floor and swearing that this is the most ridiculous thing he has ever done. 

“Come on now, you promised.”

“And I have fulfilled that promise, however, I refuse to subject myself to this torture any longer.”

“It’s not torture, Harry, be serious,” Eggsy says through his laughter. 

“Eggsy, I am controlling a green dinosaur that is driving a car. The music makes me irrationally angry as does you throwing things at me. I think a better use of my time would be to get dinner in the oven so we can eat at a suitable time.”

“I can think of something else that would be a better use of your time.”

"Does it involve your prick in my mouth?"

"Or your hand. I ain’t that picky."

“No, Eggsy,” Harry says as he leaves the room.

“I am not feeling coddled, Harry!” Eggsy calls after him. Harry laughs to himself and keeps walking. 

As he fusses over the food, he listens to Eggsy swear at the television, talk baby talk to JB, who has stayed beside Eggsy since they moved out to the living room, and laugh every now and again after his phone receives a text. Harry will check it later, see who has been making Eggsy giggle, although he is sure it is Ryan or Jamal. 

Can’t hurt to check though.

Harry returns to the living room and sits next to Eggsy, turning the television down slightly and picking up the book on Victorian tailoring he has been working his way through. Eggsy picks up his phone once more after it dings and is smiling at it.

“Dare I ask who is making you grin like that, Eggsy?”

“Tilde.”

“Princess Tilde? I wasn’t aware you and her still kept in touch,” Harry replies, his voice even. He knew Eggsy had saved her from Valentine’s bunker, but everyone seemed to clam up about it when he asked, which only made him more curious.

“Yeah, she’s aces, she is.” Eggsy glances back down at the screen and Harry watches a light blush creep across his skin. Eggsy types something back and sets his phone down.

“Should I ask why you are blushing.”

“No,” Eggsy says, not meeting his eyes.

“Eggsy? Now I definitely want to know what is being said.”

“Nothing important, yeah? Tilde was just, ah, well, she was just asking if…” Eggsy rubs the back of his neck. “Jesus, Harry, don’t make me say it.”

The time goes off in the kitchen, reminding Harry to go check the oven.

“Saved by the bell, but only for a moment. I will be right back and am quite looking forward to hearing this.”

“Wonderful.” 

Harry pulls dinner out of the oven and fiddles with it. He should have just called for takeaway tonight but cooking sounded enjoyable this morning. Now he’s just tired of it. 

“Hey, Harry?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Could you come here for a mo’? I don’t…”

Whatever Eggsy was about to say is lost when his voice dies.  Harry hears a loud thud coupled with JB’s excited barking.

“Eggsy?” Harry calls as he wipes his hands on a towel, dinner all but forgotten on top of the stove. 

No answer.

He runs into the living room to find Eggsy on the floor and JB frantically licking his face. 

“JB, bed, now,” Harry says pointing at his bed in the corner. JB gives him a mutinous look but goes. His eyes stay on Eggsy though, even from across the room. Harry crouches down, ignoring the pain flaring in his knees, and takes Eggsy’s pulse, it’s racing erratically. He slaps Eggsy’s lightly, pinching him on the leg when he get’s no response. 

He pulls his glasses out of his shirt pocket and pings Merlin.

“Harry? What is wrong?”

Harry moves Eggsy into the recovery position. “Eggsy has collapsed. His pulse is racing erratic and he is not responding to any stimuli.” He goes into the kitchen, wetting a towel and bringing it back to Eggsy where he uses it to press it against the boy’s face.

“I have a medical team on their way to you now and am calling Dr. Gipson in. Shall I turn off your oven?”

That startles a laugh out of Harry. “Please. Christ, you could kill me in my sleep from that damn clipboard of yours, couldn’t you?”

“I’ll never tell. I want it to be a surprise.”

Harry keeps pressing the cloth to Eggsy’s face while checking his pulse with his other hand. “I am sure it will be, Merlin. Do you have an ETA on the medical team?”

“They just left, Harry, it will be more than ten minutes for Christ sakes.”

“Tell them to hurry the fuck up,” Harry snaps. He breathes in and out once, gathering himself. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Understandable. What was Eggsy doing before he collapsed?”

“He was playing one of his insane video games and texting the Crown Princess of Sweden.”

Merlin hums thoughtfully. “Princess Tilde, eh?”

“Yes, although I didn’t realize that you were also on a first name basis with her.”

“While I helped get her and the rest of the people off that damned mountain. She sent me a Christmas card this past year.”

“I am sure I am thrilled for you. Back to Eggsy, however, I was trying to figure out why speaking to her was causing him to blush.”

“Well, I can certainly imagine he prefers being comatose not the floor rather than sharing that with you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Harry has moved to sitting down and Eggsy’s head is now lying in his lap.

“Oh, no, I won’t be the one who blabs that. That is all Eggsy’s.”

“If you tell me, I’ll tell you what he said I could do with you as a way to mitigate my anger.”

“What, polish my head with the mats? He was so frightened of you telling me that he came to confess. The idea he has of me being some giant, Scottish boogeyman is humorous.”

“And warranted.”

“Yes, but I like to pretend it isn’t, makes the younger agents feel safe around me.”

“Merlin, you're my best friend and I don’t even feel safe around you.”

“Good, it is…” Merlin stops for a moment. “Medical team is two minutes away. I shudder to ask this, but you both are decent, aren’t you?”

“Merlin, I was cooking dinner and Eggsy was playing a video game. Do you think I was doing so naked?”

“You’ve completed missions naked, I don’t see why cooking dinner in your own home would be something that you figured required clothes if you were so inclined.”

“For fuck’s sake, we are both decent. Make yourself useful and unlock the front door, I don’t want to leave Eggsy.”

“You’ll have to. Medical will take him in the van, but I have a cab for you as well.”

“I’ll not leave Eggsy, I said.”

Harry hears the team coming through the door and he breathes a little easier.

“You’ll let medical do their fucking job, Harry. I’ll be waiting for you when you get here. Merlin out.”

In the end Harry does take the cab Merlin provides for him but only because Cedric, who had come with the med team, threatened to tranquilize him and leave him on the floor. 

Harry sits in the waiting area of medical with Merlin. It was three in the afternoon when they arrived, it is now half nine. 

Harry stares at the wall in front of him while Merlin taps on his clipboard. 

“Distract me.”

“Shall I sing?” Merlin _ahems_ and opens his mouth.

“I swear on our friendship if you sing _Sunshine on my_ fucking _Shoulders_ I will drive a chair leg through your gnarled, black heart.”

Merlin launches, with much gusto, into _I’d Rather be a Cowboy_. 

Harry upends his coffee all over Merlin’s lap. 

Gipson comes in before Merlin can retaliate. Harry jumps out of his chair. 

“How is he?”

“He is doing well. There was a little swelling of the brain. I believe that was causing the dizziness and the headaches.”

“And him collapsing?”

“We don’t know but we are letting him sleep and wake up naturally. When he does, we’ll do another MRI to check him over, but I believe this to be a one time issue. He is responding to pain stimuli. Would you like to stay with him tonight? I’ve had a second bed brought into his room.”

Harry is incensed that no one seems to know what caused Eggsy to pass out, but he knows letting that show will only harm the goodwill the medical team has for him, and make him being allowed access to Eggsy whenever he pleases difficult.  Merlin comes and stands behind him, wet trousers and all, his hand firm on Harry’s arm.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You can go in now, Enide is just now finishing up with the lad.”

Gipson leaves and Harry pats Merlin’s hand. “Thank you for sitting with me.”

“Where else would I be? I care for the little bastard as well, if only because he is making you happy.”

“I’ll pass your heartfelt well-wishes along when he wakes up.”

“I’m glad to hear that it’s nothing serious.”

“As am I.”

“I would have hated to have to plot my revenge on a man whose lover is in the hospital,” Merlin says before turning and walking away with as much dignity a man who looks like he has pissed himself could muster.

Enide is still in Eggsy’s room when Harry enters. As promised there is a second bed right next to Eggsy’s, freshly made and looking good to him right now. Enide fusses over Eggsy, tucking blankets in, smoothing back his hair, checking the IV fluids that are pumping into him.

“Dr. Gipson says he will be fine, Enide.”

“I know that, don’t be daft. But he deserves to be fussed over doesn’t he, mothered a bit. He looks like someone that had to do a lot of mothering himself without ever getting any back.”

“As true as that may be, I am sure his mother did her best. Eggsy certainly doesn’t hold any of it against her as far as I can tell.”

“He wouldn't would he? That’s his mum, and all little boys knows their mums can do no wrong.”

Harry thinks about his mother, the cold bitch who wouldn’t know tenderness if he rammed it into her heart with his own hands. He says nothing. 

“He is so lucky to have been with you. Even if he had been here, he could have laid on the floor until it was time for one of us to the rounds. You’re a good man taking care of him like you do, loving him, fussing over him. I hope he knows and appreciates every thing you do for him.”

Certainly, he takes care of Eggsy, why wouldn’t he? Eggsy deserves to be taken care of, and for that, Harry deserves the adoration he gets from Eggsy. 

Another nurse knocks on the door frame, entering with a bag. 

“This is from Merlin, he sent a driver back to your house to get pajamas and a change of clothes for you and Gaheris,” she says as she hands it to him. 

“Thank you.”

Enide shoos the woman out the door in front of her. “I am about to put the kettle on. I’ll be down to check on you both before lights out, and I'll bring you some herbal tea.”

“Thank you, Enide, you’re a treasure.”

“I know. Now lay down and rest, you look done in.”

Harry changes and gets into the other bed. He lies there for a few minutes reading the novel that was included in the bag before curiosity gets the better of him. He logs in to the server where they keep the mission recordings and sorts through them until he finds Eggsy’s feed from the bunker last year.

He watches with longing as Eggsy cuts through Valentine’s men, a sharp and beautiful knife taking apart everything in his way. He watches with pride at the way he cuts down Valentine and Gazelle. He watches with a jealous rage, and a very interested cock, as Eggsy fucks three orgasms out of Princess Tilde. 

This puts the texting earlier in a new light. Eggsy blushing from something the Tilde had said, the very same Tilde he had buried himself balls deep in her royal arse while Harry’s “corpse” was still cooling. 

The one bright spot? Harry now knows that Eggsy has excellent stamina and the hips to really turn Harry’s world, and his arse, inside out. Something definitely they need to revisit when they are home. 

He gets out of bed, ignoring his arousal, and searches through the pockets of his coat until he finds where he put Eggsy’s phone when they left. When he pushes the power button a photo Eggsy took of JB asleep on Harry’s chest greets him. That assuages a smidge of Harry’s jealousy. It’s locked, but Harry makes quick work of that by holding his watch up to the screen. Harry will have to review the need to access each other’s phones on a later date with Eggsy.

He opens the messaging app.

_Secret Agent Man._

_Well, hello, beautiful._

_Eggsy, I am lonely, come play with me._

_Babes, I can’t. Told you last week, I’m with Harry. Don’t think he’d fancy finding out you and I were fucking ourselves silly over Skype._

_Let him come too. He is handsome, he could do you in the asshole while I watch._

_Doubt he would want to do that either, Til. What about that bloke you were talking about last week? Call him._

_Ugh, he is stupid and not handsome._

_You said he was pretty enough to make up for not having a brain._

_His penis was small._

_Now I get the real story._

_It was, I have had lipsticks longer than it. You have spoiled me for other men._

_I’d like to say you’re the first woman to feel that way, but you’re not. It’s my curse, being so good that ladies, and men, queue up all day outside my flat just hoping to be the next one. I believe there might be a support group._

_I was being funny, Eggsy._

_I wasn’t._

_Come on, Eggsy. I take care of you when you are feeling alone._

_I promise you I would if I could, but this is serious with Harry, yeah?_

_Fine. But tell me, is Harry all that you wanted? It’s good?_

_He’s aces, Til. Treats me like a fucking prince._

_I mean in bed. He is good with his cock, yes? He fucks you good? Does he know that sound you make right when it goes in?_

Harry knows that sound, that breathy little gasp Eggsy makes when Harry breaches that first ring of muscle and just slips in with a little pop. Eggsy will arch his back and then melt into the bed. How would she know unless… unless she has either fucked Eggsy, or seen Eggsy fuck himself. Harry’s mind floods with the images of Eggsy pushing dildo or a plug in and out of his own arsehole followed by him riding her, a garish pink jelly toy sliding in and out of him while his strong thighs bounce him up and down, manicured red nails digging into his legs and hips.

_Jesus, yes, extremely good, and yes he knows that sound. Fuck, he’s sitting right next to me._

_Good, at least one of us is getting fucked. I should come to London sometime soon. While I want to meet your Harry, I also want to see you alone so you can describe exactly how good he is._

_Right. I will see what I can do :)_

It takes all of Harry’s self control not to snap Eggsy’s phone, but to put it back in his jacket pocket with only the correct apps open. 

God, if Tilde comes to town he will be further up her and Eggsy’s arses than Eggsy was up her’s in that damned bunker. She will be so sick of Harry that she might not even text Eggsy again for the simple fact that she won’t be able to even bear the sound of Harry’s name. He will make sure she sees first hand how much Eggsy loves him, adores him, and worships him that she will cry knowing that she will never have that turned on her ever again. 

Eggsy wakes up on his own the next morning just as Harry is coming in from showering and changing in the en-suite. 

“Harry?” Eggsy calls from the bed. 

Harry drops his suit jacket on the bed he slept in and goes to sit on the edge of Eggsy’s bed, his hand going to Eggsy’s hair to smooth it back. Eggsy is still too pale for Harry, and his eyes look bruised under the harsh medical room lighting. Harry pours him a glass of water and holds it for him while he drinks it, resuming the hand in his hair when he has finished.

“Why we in medical? And why do I feel like Merlin threw me out of a plane without a chute again.”

“He would never, darling,” Harry says, smiling at Eggsy. “Do you remember anything?”

“Yeah, we was at your house, you were cooking and looking all fine as fuck doing it. I was texting Tilde and playing my game. Then I am here.”

“I went into the kitchen to check on dinner, you called for me and when I got to you, you were on the floor, unresponsive. I pinged Merlin and the medical team got you here.”

“And when do I get to leave again?”

“That will be up to Dr. Gipson. You had some swelling on your brain which he believes was causing the headaches and dizziness, which lead to you collapsing. He will do another MRI and see how things are, then he will decide when you leave.” Harry trails his hand down from Eggsy’s hair, down his arm, until he reaches his hand which he brings to his mouth, kissing the knuckles lightly. 

“I feel loads better, Harry, swear down. Let’s just leave before he even knows I am gone.”

“Not a chance.” Harry murmurs against Eggsy’s skin, his tongue dipping out just for a taste, and just to see how Eggsy looks at him. 

“Come on, you never stuck around when you was Galahad.”

“Eggsy, if the roles were reversed, and I was laying there from issues with my brain, would you just let me walk out the door?”

Eggsy grins, the first one since he woke up, and it makes Harry glad to have brought it out of him. “No, but you’re _old_ , Harry, you need more care than I do.”

Harry laughs and then regards Eggsy over the rim of his glasses. “I should spank you raw for that remark.”

“You definitely should,” Eggsy agrees, his eyes lighting up, “let’s go home so we can do that.”

“Still not happening, Eggsy.” Harry keeps hold of Eggsy’s hand with his left hand and clicks the call button with the other.

“Yes?” asks a woman’s tinny voice through the intercom.

“Please let Dr. Gipson know that Gaheris is awake and ready for his tests, and while we wait could you ask James, the dining room steward, to bring us some tea? Earl Grey with cream and sugar, and some toast with butter and jam.”

“Happily.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you think you can eat?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, I wasn’t lying when I said I feel better. Just a little pressure behind my eyes and shit, no dizziness and no headache.” 

When the food is brought in, he and the nurse help Eggsy sit up despite his protests, and he catches the nurse, watching him with soft eyes as he fixes both Eggsy’s tea and his toast. He stops short of feeding him because he thinks that Eggsy might put his other eye out with the butter knife if he tried. Once he has Eggsy munching on his toast, he makes his own breakfast, watching Eggsy for any signs of nausea. Luckily he seems happy to eat his portion and Harry’s, which doesn’t bother Harry in the least. 

“So,” he begins nonchalantly, “how is it that you and the Crown Princess of Sweden are still such close friends? I would expect her to be grateful but I can’t say I have ever stayed in touch with any of those I rescued on a mission.”

“Christ. You ain’t going to let it go are you?”

“I'm merely curious. Is there something wrong, darling?”

“I fucked her,” Eggsy says to his blanket.

“Pardon?”

“I fucked her,” he repeats slightly louder.

“Eggsy, gentlemen do not mumble into their bedclothes when they are carrying on a conversation.”

“I said, I fucked her, Harry, alright? I fucked her right in her pert royal arse,” he exclaims as Dr. Gipson walks in. “Oh my god, _my fucking life_!” He covers his face with his hands. Harry bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He knows if he does he will be on the floor, crying from it, if he starts. Gipson couldn’t have been less flustered had he walked in on Eggsy fucking “Til.” 

 _Til_ , Harry thinks. He may vomit. 

“It’s always good to find an outlet for excess adrenaline after a mission well done, Gaheris, just make sure you are safe and that you get regularly tested here in medical. Now, how is that head?”

Gipson examines Eggsy who suffers it in silence. 

“A nurse should be in a few minutes to take you for your MRI. Then we can talk about if you will stay or not.”

“I much prefer the ‘or not’ part, I just want to go home, Doc, sleep in my own bed.” 

Harry bristles. He will come home with him and sleeping in _Harry’s_ bed, thank you.

“We will see after I see what is going on in that skull of yours. Nod if you understand.”

Eggsy nods, pouting and unsatisfied, and Gipson leaves the two of them alone again.

“I have to say, you must have impressed the lady if she is still texting you. Were you two still seeing each other before we got together, or are you still seeing each other?” Harry asks, rubbing his hand against his thighs, to keep it open, flat, not a clench of anger.

“Harry, fuck, you think I’m a dirtbag? No, we ain’t seeing each other, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

He doesn’t have to rub as hard after hearing that.

“We ain’t hooked up since then, but we did, before you, have some adult only Skype conversations.”

“I see.” A person could ice skate in Harry’s mouth. “And was she texting you to have another Skype session?”

“She was, but I told her I was with you now and I couldn’t do that with her anymore. She’s cool though, understands completely.” Eggsy laughs, “she asked for details on how good you are in bed. Wants them all if she comes to visit London, wants to see me.”

“You expect to see her?” If Harry has to sit home while he knows Eggsy is out with someone he has not only fucked, but has spent countless nights letting her watch him fuck himself silly or tug on his own cock, he may throw himself in to the Thames. 

“Of course I do, Harry. Why wouldn’t I?”

“And me?”

“Yeah, sure, I wasn’t going to exclude you. She wants to meet you, she’s glad we got together. She sure heard about you enough while you were lying around medical in your coma and all.”

The vise around Harry’s heart eases when Eggsy says that. He won’t be home alone, wondering why his lover would rather be with others rather than him. He will be _with_ Eggsy so everyone can see how important and loved he is. That he is not a sad secret to be seen only when it is dark. 

“You will bring me with you when you see her?”

Eggsy gets out of bed and Harry immediately rises to catch him if he falls. He comes and perches on Harry’s legs, leaning down to kiss him. “Of course, I want to show you off and see how jealous she is when she realizes what I have.”

“I’m sure she will be more jealous of her not having _you_.”

“Nah, Tilde knows a damn fine thing when she sees it, so she will be jealous of both of us.”

Eggsy fits himself more comfortably into Harry’s lap, curling until he can get his face buried in the crook of Harry’s neck and his hands are lightly clutching Harry’s shirt. Harry wraps his arms around Eggsy tightly and leaves a trail of kisses up the side of his face before rest his chin on Eggsy’s head. 

“I couldn’t ever cheat on you, Harry, because when you are in the room I can’t see no one else.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes sure that when Eggsy has an “accident” on mission, he will come home with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is chapter where Harry takes a much more _active_ role in Eggsy’s health. Please be aware of that. There will still be very loving and sweet exchanges with them throughout the rest fic, and smut, but there will also be not nice things. 
> 
> There is one instance of what could be classified as domestic violence. Please scroll down to end notes for what it is if don't want to be surprised.

“Harry? Where you at, bruv?”

Harry takes off his glasses and rubs his temples, the headache that has been brewing since the morning has turned into a full on, balls deep, might vomit in his lap, migraine. 

“Eggsy, it has been months. We are sleeping together. You have confessed your undying love for me. Certainly we can move past the penance I must perform by allowing you to call me ‘bruv’ without complaint.”

Eggsy appears in the study’s doorway looking delectable in light grey wool trousers, white shirt, and a light blue waistcoat. Harry curses his head. 

“I could call you Haz instead.”

“Eggsy, as much as I adore you, call me ‘Haz’ again and you will disappear from the world so thoroughly that even you mother will be hard pressed to even remember giving birth to you.”

“Hmm, Merlin said about the same thing when I called him ‘Merls’ one day, but I think he actually has the skills to follow it up.”

“If you believe that I have not picked any skills in that department, between being an agent and now a handler, you should really go back to the candidacy trials for some remedial training.” He rubs his temples again. 

“Oh, love, a migraine?”

Eggsy comes over and rubs his neck. Harry can smell his cologne, a mix of sandalwood, teak, and vanilla, and the cigarette he smokes with the mechanics when he goes down to the garage to run his hands over the cars.

“And how are the Jaguars faring?” he asks, relaxing under Eggsy’s hands. “I can smell the cigarette you had with the mechanics.”

“Gorgeous as ever. There is a vintage one that reminds me of you.”

“Scuffed paint and flat tires?”

“Sleek, powerful, and purrs like a panther under the right hand,” Eggsy replies as his thumbs dip in between Harry’s shoulder blades. Harry groans before he can stop himself. 

“That settles it, up you get.”

“I shan’t. Moving makes it worse.”

“Don’t care, Hah-zizzles…”

“I will bury your body in an unmarked grave.”

Eggsy claps a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Sorry love, but I am going just make terrible names up for you now, it’s a thing. You’ve made it a thing. Anyway, I don’t care. I want you to go in the bedroom, strip, and lay down on the bed, I'll be in in a sec with your meds.”

“I have work to do.”

“Swear down, I will fucking carry you there myself and then tell _everyone_ at the manor about it. I’ll take pictures of you drooling on yourself and email them around. Don’t test me.”

Harry stands up in a small huff over being told what to do. He’s over fifty, he can decide on when he lays down. But he deserves coddled too, doesn’t he? 

“Fine, but I am doing this contrary to my own wishes.”

“Whatever. Do as you’re told.”

“You’re lucky you’re exquisite to look at.”

“No, love, _you’re_ lucky I am.”

Harry smacks Eggsy’s round arse and heads to the bedroom down the hall. As he crawls into the bed, naked, he has to admit that Eggsy had the right idea when he suggested this. The cool sheets soothe him as they slide against his skin. Eggsy comes in, strips down to his pants, and moves about the room shutting off all the lights, leaving the only light source as the twilight coming through the window, before bringing Harry his meds and a glass of water. After Harry has swallowed them, and Eggsy has maneuvered him into the middle of the bed, face down, Harry hears a bottle top snap.

“Eggsy, I really don’t think…”

“Like I am so much of a prick I would try to get one over on you now,” he says as he brings his slick hands down on to Harry’s back and neck. Up and down, digging in with his thumbs on either side of his spine. Up and down, singing as Harry melts in to the bed. Up and down, until…

Harry wakes some undetermined amount of time later to find his migraine gone and a very soft, sleeping Eggsy curled against his side, snoring. 

Harry pulls back slowly as to not to disturb Eggsy so he can look at him. He is beautiful, Harry thinks, with the constellations of marks across his skin. His muscles are firm and well-sculpted, but no matter how hard Eggsy works there is a small layer of softness over everything, evidenced by his arse and flanks, that he just can’t get rid of. Harry likes to nip and tongue at it, feeling it under his mouth while Eggsy writhes beneath him. 

Harry runs his fingers down the bare skin in front of him to watch Eggsy shudder lightly and try to move closer to him. Eggsy has a morning erection, and while Harry’s cock at this time of the day, and after a night of his medication, is a little slower to take notice, he can think of some things he would like to do with Eggsy’s. He slips from the bed, heading into the en-suite to brush his teeth and prepare for the morning’s festivities. 

Eggsy is on his side when Harry finishes so he slips in behind him, mouthing along one bare shoulder while moving his hand around to Eggsy’s front, and down into his pants. Eggsy thrusts into his hand unconsciously.

“Eggsy, darling, wake up.”

“No,” Eggsy mumbles, eyes shut, still moving lazily under Harry’s palm.

“If you wake up, I will let you take this,” Harry grasps Eggsy’s cock firmly and strokes, “and put it in my arse.”

Eggsy cracks one eye open. “You serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Don’t know, just figured you preferred to top.”

“I do, but sometimes I also like to lay back and let my extremely handsome, young lover do all the work.”

Eggsy leans up for a kiss, which Harry allows to land on his cheek. 

“Brush your teeth for Christ’s sake, it’s disgusting.”

“I’ll go brush my teeth, you go out the kettle on.” Eggsy glances down to see that Harry isn’t even hard. Harry refuses to be embarrassed.

“I know you think that being old and not being able to get it up at a moment’s notice is an issue, but,” Eggsy says, walking to the loo, “I can see how being able to walk around normally ninety percent of the time is a real fucking prize. Being around you makes my cock think I’m sixteen again.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Harry is dozing when a minty fresh Eggsy joins him in the bed. He wiggles in-between Harry’s legs, lying so that his still hard cock is lying next to Harry’s, which is now getting with the program. Eggsy’s eyes flick over to where lube is lying next Harry’s pillow. He smiles, all teeth. 

“No condom, eh? Little tart, you are.”

“We can certainly use one if you prefer it, but yes, I like it without.”

Eggsy kisses him then, roughly, and Harry allows it, thrusting his hips up to meet Eggsy’s. 

“Jesus, Harry, you make me so fucking hard.” His head drops to Harry’s throat where he nips at him. “Do you know how inconvenient it is to walk around, half out of your mind with lust, the only thing keeping you decent is the cut of your jacket, because you have the sexiest man in the entire agency in your bed?”

Harry threads his fingers through Eggsy’s hair, pulling his head up. “Yes, darling, I can assure you that I do.”

“Nah, babes, I ain’t got nothing on you. All silver fox with your dashing as fuck eye patch and gentleman cane. Half the handlers in the pen spend more time with their eyes on you than on their agents. Bloody menace, you are.”

“I think you might still suffer from that concussion you received a month ago. I should call Dr. Gipson,” he says as he moves to get up. 

Eggsy immediately pushes him back down. “Get comfortable, old man, ‘cause you ain’t getting up for a little while.”

Harry makes a show of lying back. He waves a hand down his body. “By all means then.”

The first coherent thought Harry has again is that he is grateful for the stamina he learned with age. After twenty minutes of having Eggsy three fingers deep in his arse and his tongue wrapped around the head of his cock, Harry knows Harry Hart the Younger would have embarrassed himself ten minutes ago. And that was being generous. 

“Eggsy,” Harry is able to pant out after much concentration, “come up here, please.”

Eggsy pulls off his cock and climbs up him, laying down and grabbing both of their cocks with one hand, stroking slowly. Harry wraps one hand around the back of his head and pulls him in for a kiss, their bodies undulating against each other’s. 

“Fuck, I got to get in you now, Harry, before I come all over us.”

“I'm not opposed to that either.” And he isn't. Earlier, having Eggsy pin him to the mattress while he laid there, luxuriating in the feel of a cock dragging in and out of him seemed like a heavenly way to spend the morning. Now he was just wanted to come. 

“Nope, I don’t know if you'll want to make this a regular thing so I am taking advantage of it.” He kneels back, looking at Harry considering, like Harry isn’t a trembling mess with a cock so hard it is bordering on uncomfortable, stomach covered with precome, who isn’t one minute away from pushing Eggsy to the floor, climbing on top of him and just _fucking taking_ what he wants. 

“Eggsy…”

“Just trying to decide how I want you. Hands and knees I think.”

Harry nearly kicks Eggsy off the bed in his haste to get in position. As soon as he flips over, he drops his chest to the bed and angles his knees out wide.

“Yes, Harry. Fuck.” Eggsy places his hands on Harry’s arse and spreads him open, looking at him where Harry is soft and ready for him. Eggsy rubs his cock up and down the cleft, his head catching on Harry’s rim, making Harry push back and moan each time. One the third pass, Eggsy lines himself up and pushes in just a little, and pulls all the way out again, repeated the motion, fucking him the remaining way open in inch by inch increments until he bottoms out. 

“You’re so tight around me love, so warm,” Eggsy murmurs as he thrusts in and out.

Harry widens his knees until he feels the strain in his tendons. He wants Eggsy deeper, slower, faster, everything all at once. Eggsy leans down over him, going up on to his toes in some sort of perverse downward dog position. Harry applauds Eggsy clear devotion to his yoga practice before Eggsy really fucks into him. The bed rattles against the wall. His bollocks draw up tight. He slips his hand down and pulls himself off, coming all over the sheets with just a few strokes. 

“Oh, fuck,” Eggsy says, dropping back to his knees and gripping Harry by the hips as he resumes his pace. “Gonna come in you, Harry, want to feel…” Eggsy slips a finger into Harry alongside of his cock. Harry moans and pushes back hard, wishing he hadn’t already come. Eggsy slips a second one in. The stretch is almost painful, but it’s worth it when Eggsy throws back his head, shouts Harry’s name and comes messily inside of him. 

Eggsy collapses to the side of him and Harry crawls over, draping himself across Eggsy’s still heaving chest. Eggsy cards his fingers through Harry’s hair. “We should spend they day doing this, yeah? Or the whole weekend?”

“Sounds delightful, but you’re making the tea, darling,” Harry manages before he falls right back to sleep. 

 

—————

“Harry, wake up, love, I’m heading out,” Eggsy says, shaking Harry gently. 

“Eggsy, I had meant to make you breakfast,” Harry says, rubbing at his good eye. 

“No worries, I’ll eat something on the plane. Just make sure you are at work on time so you’s the one in my ear, yeah?”

“Yes. Be safe and come home to me.”

“Do my best.” Eggsy kisses him on the mouth and Harry wrinkles his nose. “I am about to go get shot at, I couldn't care less about your rank breath. Love you.”

“Love you,” Harry replies as well as he can through mostly closed lips.

Eggsy lands in Geneva a few hours later. He taps his glasses once.

“Ryence here, have you landed, Gaheris?

“I have and I am en route to the hotel now, have we located Renault yet?”

“Not yet, but Jasmine, his mistress, is shopping on the Rue du Rhône, so he is close by.” 

Harry goes quiet for a moment and Eggsy pictures him scrolling quickly through CCTV footage, face recognition software running, and files spread out across his monitors. He knows Harry thinks of himself as a mediocre handler but both Eggsy and Merlin see how he takes to the role, how quick his mind works, as it maps out information almost instantly to relay to his agent.

“Ah, I spoke too soon, Renault has checked into the hotel just now. It seems we have gotten lucky, from what I can see it is him, Jasmine, and three guards. I think that he assumes he is safe in Geneva since everyone believes he is actually in Spain right now.”

“I’m going to hate showing him he’s wrong.”

“Quite. They are have the third floor suite. Your room is directly above them.”

“Not an issue. I think I can handle five people. If I can’t I am pretty sure Merlin will bust me down to a janitor.”

“That’s being generous. You’ll be scrubbing the kennels. With a sponge and no gloves.”

“At the hotel, give us a mo'.”

Eggsy checks in under the alias he has been building over the past year, a Gary Underwood (names similar to your own roll off the tongue easier according to Merlin, and Eggsy makes it a point to _never_ question Merlin) who is a poor little rich boy, orphaned with way too much money and not enough supervision. He has been known to give large amounts of money to  charities one day and buy someone from a trafficking ring the next. He has very loose morals, an addiction for everything new, and a need for instant gratification. He and Renault had “run into” each other at a party last month to prepare for this mission and he had ended the night in bed with Renault and his mistress. Eggsy just hopes he was memorable enough to catch their eyes a second time. 

Renault was a purveyor of diamonds, blood diamonds to be exact, and when he wasn’t moving those, he was supplying guns to every militant faction he could and getting rich while they killed each other. Jasmine was collateral damage in this mission although Eggsy didn’t feel too terrible about taking her out as well since the last time he was with them he watched her beat one of her servants bloody for dropping a fucking spoon.

Most likely he would have to get to them the same way he met them the first time. He wonders if that is why Harry was so adamant that he handle Eggsy for this mission.

Eggsy isn’t a fool, he knows Harry is a possessive git, but it doesn’t bother him. 

One, because Eggsy is possessive right back. He had heard one of the other handlers, a woman with the code name Laudine, discussing Harry over the kettle last month. She had planned on claiming Harry for her own until Eggsy very plainly, very succinctly, explained to her that Harry was _his_ , thank you very much. He may also have been cleaning his gun while he had that chat with her.

Eggsy is almost positive she runs if Harry even says “Excuse me” to her now.

Two, Eggsy can handle Harry. He gets it. Harry is old, he feels like he is broken and half a man, so he thinks he needs to hold on to Eggsy with everything he has so Eggsy doesn’t walk away. Harry will figure out soon enough that Eggsy has zero desire to go anywhere that Harry is not. And when he gets all territorial and pisses on Eggsy’s leg, Eggsy smacks his nose with a proverbial newspaper. Just cause he understands it doesn’t mean he will put up with it.

While checking in he plays up his persona just to fuck with Harry, flirting with the concierge, asking her what time she gets off, and if he could help. Eggsy thinks he hears a slight snapping sound coming through his glasses. 

He hopes Harry has a replacement pencil. 

The concierge answers him with the blandest face possible, she’s heard it all before and from people with more money and power than Eggsy has. She hands him his room key, and he hands her a hefty tip. He likes a bird with bollocks.

Eggsy lets himself into his room and goes about hanging his suits up, waiting for Harry to unclench his jaw enough to say something. Three, two, one…

“Was that really necessary, Gaheris? You are supposed to be there to take care of Renault.”

“Just shoring up my alias. Gary is a healthy, sexually promiscuous man, and she was fit. He would’ve flirted with her. Actually, he would have roofied her, but there is only so far I am willing to go for the sake of an alias.”

“Sounded like you were ‘whoring’ not 'shoring,'” Harry mutters.

“Excuse fucking me?”

“For fuck’s sake, do you know how sick I am of having to monitor missions you two are on together?” Merlin voice breaks in over the line. “Either keep it fucking work related or you two will never be paired together again. If I wanted to chaperone a pair of snotty fucking kids I would have had some of my own. _Fuck_.”

“Sorry, Merlin,” Eggsy says.

Harry says nothing. 

“Right,” Eggsy says, “I will head back down to the hotel bar to see if I can ‘run into’ Renault and the missus once again.”

“Understood,” Harry grinds out. “ _Bon chance_.”

Eggsy makes his way around the posh bar of the hotel, making sure everyone sees him and making sure more than one pair of eyes are following him around the room. Renault only wants something if he feels like he is taking it from someone else. When Renault and Jasmine come down from their rooms, Eggsy is deep in conversation with a very handsome older man, a diplomat from the Middle East, and Eggsy’s hand is high up the man’s muscular thigh. 

He and Harry are exclusive, but fuck everything if he ain’t going to enjoy some of the fucking perks of the job, yeah?

He waits until Jasmine and the first guard has passed before he looks up. “Rennie?” he asks, sounding surprised. Jasmine immediately turns around.

“Oh! Gary,” she exclaims in heavily French-accented English, coming over to him, surrounding him with the smell of her perfume and the fur of her coat. “What ever are you doing here?”

“Jasmine,” he says, taking her hand with his free one and kissing the back of it. “You know, business.”

“Yes, but of course.”

Renault comes over, putting his arm around her waist when she straightens up, looking Eggsy over, very thoroughly, before then narrowing his eyes at the hand he has on the diplomat’s leg. _Ha_ , Eggsy thinks, _got you._ Eggsy meets Renault’s gaze as it comes back to him, licking his lips, but he does not remove his hand from the other man’s thigh. 

“It is good to see you again, Gary. Could we interest you in joining us for the evening? Unless, of course, you have already found company more _entertaining_ ,” Renault says, a sneer on his lips when he looks at the diplomat. 

“I think Gary is right where he would like to be,” the man says.

Renault raises his chin and looks back at Eggsy, waiting. “Gary?”

Eggsy leans over and kisses the diplomats cheek. “My apologies, but I was not expecting to run into my old friends this evening. Perhaps we will be lucky enough to run into each other again during the rest of our stay.”

He huffs. “Don’t count on it,” he says, standing up and buttoning his coat. “I do not waste my time on عاهرة.”

He hears a clatter from his glasses. Between all the sexual innuendo floating about and the whore insult, Harry must be in a high holy fit by now. 

Renault steps in front of the man. “You should be careful who you insult.”

“I wasn’t aware he belonged to you. A waste of money, it looks to me.”

Renault jerks his head at one of his guards who steps forward. 

“Now, gentlemen, there is no need for this,” Eggsy says, stepping in between them. He straightens the lapel of Renault's jacket. “Why don’t we go up to your room and call for some refreshments? Surely that would be much more enjoyable.”

Renault shifts his attention back to Eggsy and raises his hand, halting his guard. 

“Yes, it would be. Consider yourself lucky that the man you insulted did not see you as worth my time. You should find him again and show your gratitude properly.” Renault throws his free arm around Eggsy. “Jean,” he says to one of his guards, “order us food and drink to be delivered to the room. Find yourself, and the other men, a diversion, we will stay in tonight.”

Eggsy leans into Renault, sharing a wink with Jasmine on the other side. Renault pulls them tighter to him while looking around the bar, confirming that everyone sees his prizes for the night.

“We are no longer going out?” Jasmine asked, pouting slightly.

“We can go out any night, but how many times do we get to have Gary all to ourselves? He is worth missing a few mediocre clubs, is he not?”

“Yes,” Jasmine answers, pressing a kiss to Renault’s jawline, “most certainly.”

Once they have made it to Renault’s rooms, the three of them head into the master bedroom to get reacquainted. Jasmine pounces on Eggsy, pushing him up against the wall and kissing him while making short work of his clothes. Renault makes them all drinks while watching Eggsy and Jasmine, his eyes hot.

“I’m not complaining, but I have to admit I am feeling odd being the only one with his arse on display here,” Eggsy says, leaning back against the door.

“Easily remedied,” Jasmine answers, pulling her plum colored satin shift dress off in one movement. Underneath she wears nothing but a matching thong which she shimmies down her tanned legs until she is bare except for a small triangle of pubic hair, a diamond necklace, and the sleek brown bob on top of her head. They both turn to look at Renault, brings them each a drink, kissing each of them as he deposits the glass in their hands. 

“I think I will watch you both for the moment.”

Jasmine knocks her drink back, the ice clinking against the glass before going to the bed and laying down, looking across the room at Eggsy from between her spread legs. 

“Fine by me,” Eggsy says with a smile and joins Jasmine on the bed. 

At some point after Eggsy began fucking Jasmine, and after Renault had joined them and had begun fucking Eggsy, someone had brought food and more alcohol in. Eggsy gets up to make another round of drinks while Jasmine piles food on a plate for them to share. While mixing the drinks, Eggsy dips his right thumb into each of their glasses. The poison pen is useful in most situations, but the honeypots make it difficult to wander about with a pen if your bare arse is hanging out. For this, Merlin had developed a clear fingernail polish that dissolves in the presence of alcohol. This would require him to make sure he didn’t kiss either one again, but it was fast acting enough he doubted it would be an issue. He brings the drinks over and proposes a toast once they have them in hand.

“To fortuitous meetings with old friends,” he says, glass held aloft. 

“Old friends,” they echo before drinking. Eggsy picks at the food and makes small talk.

“As always, you host a lovely intimate get together Rennie. Between the food and the lady, I don’t think I’ve eaten this good in months.” He winks at them both. 

Renault and Jasmine sit up against the headboard. As Eggsy watches both their heads begin to loll on their necks.

“You two alright? Did I wear you out?”

Renault looks at him through bleary, but hard, eyes. Eggsy knows that he knows. His hand attempt to reach for the phone on the bedside table.

“I'll help,” Eggsy says purposely knocking it under the bed when he reaches for it. “Damn, sorry about that.” He shrugs. “Let’s get you two comfortable and I’ll find that phone.”

Jasmine is moaning softly, her eyes frightened. Renault moans back. From the briefing he read on the poison, first symptom is body wide numbing and loss of motor skills, then loss of sight and speech, last is death. All within three minutes. 

Eggsy moves them until they are both lying down in each other’s arms, like two people having a post shag nap. They have stopped making noise now and are just staring blankly in front of them. Eggsy can see their pulses jack hammering in their necks and for a second he finds it horrifying. Horrifying that these two people, that he has fucked twice, are trapped inside their own minds, knowing they are drying and that he killed them. Then he remembers who they are and what they have done. He remembers the way the maid had spit one of her own teeth out on to the floor in front of Jasmine and then thanked her for the “reprimand.”

 _Good riddance_ , he thinks as he watches the pulses fade. 

He gets dressed quickly. 

Harry’s voice comes over his glasses. “I’ve gotten in to the hotel’s security system and into the cameras in the halls of the suite you are in. Renault’s men are in the room in front of you. I suggest you don’t go out there unarmed.”

“What the fuck? They was supposed to be getting their own fucktoy for the night.” 

“Shall I ring them up and ask them?”

“Jesus, no. Let me look around.”

“You didn’t bring your weapons?”

“No, Ryence, _I didn’t bring my weapons_. I figured these two would think it’s funny that the posh boy they were about to bugger senseless,” Eggsy can almost _hear_ Harry grinding his teeth, “had a fucking arsenal strapped to him. I am supposed to be some witless little fuck with too big of a bank account and too small of a dick. All I got is the knife in my belt.”

Eggsy is flinging clothes around, looking in luggage, for the guns he knows Renault carries. 

“In your own time, Gaheris.”

“Got it,” he says, holding up the Glock. “Lacks the panache my normal girl has, but this one will get the job done. Extraction?”

“Howell is waiting in a car downstairs.”

“Cheers.” Eggsy tucks the gun into the back of his trousers and opens the door nonchalantly, swaggering through like a man who just had a blistering round, or five, of excellent shagging. 

“Hey boys, Renault and the missus are sleeping it… uh, right.”

Renault’s men are standing on either side of the telly, guns drawn, which is currently showing what seems to be a sleeping Renault and Jasmine, which are actually a dead Renault and Jasmine, and they are looking at Eggsy in a way Eggsy does not like _at all_.

He could play this so many ways.

“Were you lot watching us fuck? Does Renault know you are a bunch of creeping perverts? I have half a mind to go back in there and tell him about it.”

The largest one of the two, Eggsy thinks he was the one Renault called Jean, says, “Be our guest, you little cunt. Why the fuck were you looking through his things, and why do you have his gun?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have a gun. Why the fuck would I have a gun?” Eggsy is waving his hands around, yelling. “Oh, you mean this one?” He whips the gun out of his waistband and shoots Jean between the eyes. The man crashes to the floor. Eggsy has just enough time to dive behind the couch before the other opens fire. 

“I am positive someone heard that, Gaheris. You, more than likely, have less than fifteen minutes before the police are coming through the door. I suggest you take care of your friend and get to Howell.”

“Excellent, Ryence. Cracking good plan,” Eggsy says, “I would have never come up with it myself. Fuck. Can you get into the hotel’s and Renault’s system to wipe the tapes?”

“Working on it.”

Eggsy pulls the small blade out of his belt buckle stand up quickly, throws it, and immediately hits the floor as another shot rings out. The bullet slams into his shoulder on his way down. Close range hurts like a fucking bitch and leaves a cunt of a bruise. There is a crash behind him and he peaks over the couch. Jean’s friend is lying on the floor with Eggsy’s blade sticking out of one eye. 

Eggsy stands all the way up. “Holy fuck. I can’t believe I hit him.”

“And that is why Merlin makes you shoot and throw knives until it’s muscle memory. Good throw. Now get a fucking move on.”

“Wait a sec. Wasn’t there a third fuckstick?”

The door to the other suite bursts open and Fuckstick Three comes through it still tucking his cock in his pants. He looks at his two friends on the floor, bleeding all over the expensive carpet, and then at Eggsy.

“What the fuck?” he bellows before launching himself at Eggsy. 

Eggsy raises his gun and fires, hitting him in the bicep but forward momentum already has the man crashing into him, knocking him against the wall. Eggsy reaches up and digs his fingers into the bullet wound and the man roars in his face. He grabs Eggsy by the throat, squeezing, and slams him into the wall repeatedly, dazing him while he knocks Eggsy’s gun away with the other hand. 

Just when Eggsy can feel his eyes rolling back from the lack of oxygen, Fuckstick drops him to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he sees his gun lying three feet away. He depresses the button on his signet ring and drives into the leg in front of him, watching as the large man jerks and falls to the floor. He crawls over to his gun, coughing, grabs it and crawls back to the man so he can put it against the man’s temple and pull the trigger. 

“Police! Police! Stay where you are!” 

“Fuck,” Eggsy mutters as he pulls himself to his feet. He stumbles to the balcony and looks down, then back at the police that are edging their way into the room. This was _not_ how this mission should have turned out, bloody fucking hell. He looks down again. He can see the car three floors down. Howell has gotten out of the car and is looking up at him.

“You will have to jump, Eggsy. The police are in Renault’s employ. They will be more than happy to curry favor with the second in command by killing you in retaliation if given the chance. 

He jumps. Something in his leg cracks. Howell runs over to him and drags him to the car while Eggsy clenches his jaw and claps both hands over his mouth to keep from screaming as his leg bumps over the pavement. 

“You’re the guv,” he says to Howell as he is half pushed and half pulls himself inside the car. Eggsy passes out just as he hears the police yelling over the squeal of tires. 

—————

Harry sits at his handler station watching Eggsy flirt with, and feel up a man just a few years younger than Harry himself while waiting for the two people he was going to kill, or fuck and _then_ kill. As much as Harry hates seeing it, he cannot not be Eggsy's handler for honeypots. Cannot. 

Eggsy is his. To see these worthless bags of meat with sentient thinking touch what is his makes Harry want to hurt someone. Literally. 

He keeps quiet though because Merlin meant what he said earlier, he would pull Harry from Eggsy’s mission in a heartbeat if he thought them being paired put it at risk. 

His blood reaches its boiling point when he realizes that Eggsy will sleep with Renault and Jasmine before killing them. Eggsy leaves on his glasses, which is protocol when it is possible, which also means that Harry gets a very close up view of every single part of Jasmine and Renault. 

Harry fears he might have a heart attack from the rage, and he would give anything if he could suddenly transport himself to that hotel room and bury himself inside of Eggsy like Renault is having the ill-gotten pleasure of doing right now. And damn him, Eggsy is enjoying it. Harry knows the sound of Eggsy’s pleasure well enough by now to know this is not being faked. 

He tries to take his mind off of it by hacking into the CCTV feeds of the hotel, looking through what he can see of the suite. Two of Renault’s men are in the room outside the bedroom where Eggsy, by the sounds still flowing through Harry’s earphones and the movement on the minimized screen on his left monitor, is still enthusiastically getting fucked. They are watching the same thing that Harry is watching and speaking in low tones in French. 

“He screams like a woman, no? I wonder if he feels as good around your cock as a woman.”

“Woman, who cares, did you see him? He is pretty with a very plush mouth. Cock or cunt, I don’t care as long as I am getting laid.”

“We should ask Renault if he would let us have a turn when they finish with him. A reward, and a much better one than the skinny blonde Victor is fucking.” He cocks his head toward the other door where Harry can make out the sounds of a woman moaning. “She sounds like a bad porn, fake as her tits.”

The other man nods and goes back to watching the screen. Harry sees the moment they realize something is very wrong, but neither of them make a move to help Renault or Jasmine. 

“We will take him to Bastian, explain that he killed Renault and that we did not know until it was too late,” one of them says to the other, the one who wondered if Eggsy was a good as a woman. “Bastian will happy to have Renault gone, he will take over and we will move up the ladder from guarding assholes like Renault to having our own businesses under Bastian.”

The other man nods as Eggsy tucks Renault’s gun into the back of his trousers, “I hated that bastard anyway, no loss to us. We will have to subdue that one though, and if we do it by fucking him until he can’t walk, I am sure Bastian will not care.”

Throughout the fight Harry keeps quiet, not wanting to distract Eggsy, not mentioning the fact that Eggsy seems to have forgotten about the third man that was in Renault’s party. He must learn to keep his head about him at all times, and if Harry has to resort to this to teach him that than it is for his own good. It’s not like Eggsy cannot handle the third man. 

The only time Harry speaks during the entire mess, from start to finish is when he tells Eggsy he will have to jump, which of course, he doesn’t. Kingsman could easily get Eggsy out of a third world, dungeon shithole of a prison, much less a nice one in Geneva. Jumping will most likely result in a broken leg at worst, a sprain at best. 

Eggsy jumps and hits the ground hard. Harry can see that something has happened to his leg although he is not quite sure what. 

But he knows Eggsy will be ok. 

Because Harry is here to take care of him. 

—————

Eggsy wakes in medical, a-fucking-gain. While he floats on the cottony clouds of goodness, also known as Kingsman’s primo fucking pain medication, he thinks of the days where missions did not mean he was automatically waking up in medical drugged out of his head. 

He looks down his body, everything is attached it seems, but there is a cast on his left leg. He remembers jumping out of the window and the sickening snap his leg made under him. Fucking hell. More time out of the field, more physio, more of Harry mothering him. He’s damn lucky Kingsman is not the type of job he can get fired from because as much time as he has missed, any place else would have booted him out on his pretty arse. 

He pictures Merlin tossing him out of the shop, throwing all his chav clothes out after him, like an angry wife tossing out a no good boyfriend. Merlin could wear a frilly apron and wave a rolling pin at him.

He giggles, and it hurts. Oh, yeah, fucking fuckstick tried to choke him, rude fucker. Fucking fuckstick, fuck. He giggles to himself some more. Good shit. Yes.

Harry comes in.

“This is rather becoming a thing with you, isn’t it? Are you trying to worry me into an early grave?” he asks as he bends down to kiss Eggsy’s forehead. “Thankfully this time it’s just a broken leg and a few bruises, the worst being your throat. Gipson assures me that it will be only about eight weeks, maybe less, for the cast to come off, and then a few weeks of physio.”

Eggsy groans. Over two months? Paperwork and hobbling around the manor for over two fucking months? 

“I need to switch missions with Rox. She always comes home in good shape.”

“Perhaps she is just more careful. I doubt it’s because she is getting easier missions. Maybe you should ask her which it is.”

“No thanks, bruv, I value my bollocks staying right where they are.”

“As do I,” Harry says, eyes crinkling at his temples.

“Besides, I know she ain’t getting easier missions, but maybe they ain’t the ones that require jumping out of windows, yeah?” Eggsy thinks for a moment. “Or perhaps she is the better agent.”

“Not better, darling, just differently skilled.”

“You should’ve been a politician, Harry, with the bullshit you can spout at any given moment.”

“Merlin tells me that all the time. Now, Gipson says I will be able to take you home tomorrow.”

“I’m going back to my flat, Harry, and this time I mean it,” Eggsy says, slurring.

“We’ve been over this before, you need looking after.”

“No, I actually don’t this time. I'll cover the bruising up with a little makeup, and my leg is broke, which is easily explainable by a fall. Mum is just down stairs if I need something, so there's no reason I can’t go home. It's not like a concussion or something where I need you. You can come over whenever you want, but I want to be in my flat, see my sister, be _home_.”

Harry draws himself up. “I wasn’t aware that my home was not yours as well.”

“It’s not, Harry, not yet. Besides, I always feel like I am running to you when I stub my toe. I can take of myself, it’s time I remember that.”

“Staying with me does not mean you can’t take care of yourself. It is not a sign of weakness to ask for help, Eggsy.”

“Ain’t saying it is, Harry, but I need to feel a little self-sufficient for a little while.”

Eggsy waits for Harry to go ice cold, but he doesn’t. Instead he sighs, looking a little defeated and sad. “You are right, I suppose, as much as I don’t like it. Can I at least take you back to your flat tomorrow and help you get settled?”

Eggsy is thrown off guard by Harry's acceptance. “Yeah, Harry, and come by whenever you want, I meant that.”

“I plan on it. There is only so far that I trust you to take care of what is mine.”

“You are such an arsehole,” Eggsy says, smiling, out of his head on dopey love and excellent drugs. “But you’re _my_ arsehole.”

“I am. I have to go back to work, but I will come back later. Get some rest.”

“Thanks, Harry. I love you, you know.”

“And I you, my darling.”

—————

Harry walks down the hall heading back to his station. 

“We will have your boy ready for you to take home and coddle tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you, Enide, but I will take him home to his own flat this time. His mother worries so, of course.”

“All us mums do. Must sting to not be needed though.”

Harry’s shoulders slump. _Not to be needed_. 

Eggsy cannot be allowed not to need him. 

—————

“Thanks again for understanding,” Eggsy says to him as Harry holds the flat door open for him to hobble through. 

“Eggsy, love,” Michelle comes through the kitchen to take Eggsy’s arm to help him to his couch. “Mr. Hart.” Michelle accepts the fact that he and Eggsy are together but that does not mean she likes it. Or Harry.

“Michelle,” he says, charming smile in place, only to morph into narrowed eyes and a frown when she turns around. Eggsy will not accept help from him, but from his mother, a woman who put him in the path of Dean Baker, that’s perfectly fine. 

He wants to scream. 

He doesn’t. 

He follows Michelle and Eggsy further into the flat, heading up the stairs, cane and all, to put Eggsy’s bag and belongings away for him. He must be allowed to do something without making Eggsy feel like, well, whatever Eggsy thinks he feels like. 

This whole farce is absurd. 

He fusses over everything, making sure Eggsy’s laundry is sorted, his sheets are fresh with plumped pillows, one of which Harry _may_ have “hugged” to ensure a slight trace of his cologne was on it, and repositioning things around the bedroom as to not hinder Eggsy on his crutches. He mentally makes a list of all this so he can mention it to Eggsy to highlight the fact that _he_ thought to do all of this, not Michelle. 

He still doesn’t see why Eggsy won’t come stay with him. He will even allow his mother to visit, because it will allow him to show her how well he takes care of her son, and of course Daisy, the most delightful little girl Harry has ever met, can come visit any time. Harry has already bought toys and other child related items for her. He will take care of her as well. Almost like she is his own daughter.  

A thought for another time.

He goes downstairs to find Eggsy sitting at the small island he has in his kitchen while his mother fixes him a cup of tea. 

“Tea, babe?” Eggsy asks.

“I was wondering if your mother and Daisy would like to stay for dinner,” he asks, smiling with all his charm. Despite herself, Michelle smiles back. She looks good he begrudgingly admits. She still dresses a little more chav than Harry thinks a woman of her age should, but she is always neat now, with her hair freshly styled and her makeup, on days she wears it, accenting her face. Perhaps he should look for a man for her. Giving her something else to focus on would take her eyes off of Harry for a while, and give Harry more time with Eggsy, and Daisy. 

Interesting. 

“I could go down to the shops, grab something to cook so that you will have some leftovers in the fridge for a few days.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I would like to,” Harry replies, pressing a kiss to Eggsy’s head. Eggsy leans into him like a leaf to the sun. Harry sees the smile drop off of Michelle’s face. 

“Yeah, alright then.”

—————

Eggsy remains at the island after Harry leaves, sipping his tea and looking forward to having dinner with the people he loves the most. 

“So you and him are still together then?” his mum asks, leaning against the counter, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes on the floor.

Eggsy does his level best not to roll his eyes. He doesn’t quite succeed. He knows her and Harry won’t ever be friends, not with Harry being the one to tell her his Dad was dead and all, but he has wished with all his might for resigned acceptance from her. 

“Yeah, we’re still together. Plan on being together for a little while too, so you might want to get used to him being around.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to like him because _I_ love him, mum, and that is what matters.”

“Why?” she asks, looking like the thought of him loving Harry is the most absurd thing she can think of.

“Why? Because he loves me. Because he makes me laugh, and makes me want to punch him three seconds afterwards, because he doesn’t ask me to be someone I am not, because he’s fucking gorgeous, because he takes care of me, and most of all, because he is who _he_ is with no apologies. Can you easily list all the reasons you loved Dad, or did you just know it in your soul?”

“I hardly think you two are anything like me and Lee, Eggs.”

“What is your problem with him? He’s been nothing but charming to you, takes good care of Dais, and is always a fucking gentleman.”

“He’s old, Eggsy. He’ll keel over one day and you’ll realize you wasted the best years of your life on an old man.” Eggsy throws up his arms, muttering _fucking hell, you have_ got _to be kidding me_ under his breath. “What if you break up? Will he fire you? Take your money away?”

Eggsy struggles to his feet. “Mum,” he says, his voice low and angry, “you should watch what you say if you want to continue having me around.”

But she doesn’t watch what she is saying. No, instead she keeps going, like now that it is all out, she can’t stop, then she lays down the kicker. “I don’t want you to be with someone like Dean.”

“Nope, no. You ain’t doing that. You ain’t comparing him to that piece of shite Dean because you decided you don’t like him. He don’t yell at me like Dean did. He don’t fucking make me run drugs or peddle my mouth and arse for him,” she flinches a little and bites at her lower lip, “like Dean did. And he certainly doesn't beat the ever living fuck out of me and you like _Dean_ fucking did. 

“Mum, I love you, yeah? More than anything else in the world, but you are going to have to accept Harry and me. You don’t have to like it, you don’t have to dance at our wedding, but you are going to fucking accept it. Harry treats me good, with respect, and like an equal. If you can’t see that, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I just want what’s best for you, Eggs.”

“I know you do, and that is why I haven’t told you to get the fuck out yet, but I am going to ask you to leave for tonight, but before you go I am going to say this once more. Accept it, accept _him_ , or do not come back through that door. I will always take care of you and Dais, but if you can’t be happy for me for finding love, even if you don’t like the person I found it with, then I can’t have you around, mum. My happiness is important, my life is mine to choose, and I choose Harry. I will _always_ choose him.”

“Eggsy…”

"No, mum. I want you to go now because I don’t think I can watch you give Harry the evil eye all night while you eat the food he cooked for you. I think it’s best if you go pick up Dais from Ms. Bartle’s flat and you all stay home. Make some of that pasta she likes so much, maybe watch a movie."

Michelle looks like she wants to say something else, but doesn’t and nods. “I love you, baby. You know that.”

“I do know, mum, and I love you. We'll have tea tomorrow or the next, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll text in the afternoon when I get home from work.”

“Sounds good.”

Eggsy watches her leave before he hobbles to his liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle. Fuck his meds, he thinks, as he takes a long drink from it, and then several more. He fucking deserves this. Besides it’s either this or some extra pills, but he would rather not even think about that road, much less go down it. At least right now. He puts it back, already feeling it hitting his brain, pops a piece of gum in his mouth for the smell, because Harry, despite his own alcoholism, will get pissy as fuck if he catches Eggsy drinking on his pain medication, and then he goes to take a nap until Harry gets back. 

—————

Harry walks around the Tesco, earphones in, nodding in time with what he is listening to, a smile on his face. He passes a mother and her child. He stops to smile at the girl, reaching behind her ear and pulling out a coin, a trick he has been learning to show Daisy. 

He moves on, placing items in his cart, stopping to tap at his phone when needed. The small mic he placed on Eggsy when he kissed him goodbye, now transmitting to his phone, is allowing him to hear everything that is being said back at the flat. He did not realize how deep Michelle’s issues with him fucking her son ran and he worries she might change Eggsy’s mind about him. She is his mother after all, and the boy loves her more than Harry believes she deserves, but he also knows better than to speak an ill word against her around Eggsy. 

He sees red when Michelle compares him to Dean. As if he would ever treat Eggsy the way Dean did. As if he would hurt Eggsy for pleasure, just to watch him bleed. .

Then he hears it. Hears it from Eggsy’s own lips. He hears Eggsy say, “and I choose Harry. I will _always_ choose him,” and Harry knows that Eggsy is his.

He _knows_.

—————

Five days into his independent convalescence he thinks he might have made a wrong choice. He fucking hurts, way more than he should, and the only time he feels better is when Harry is around. He glances at his watch, huffing when he realizes it’s at least another two hours before Harry could even hope to be here. 

Eggsy doesn’t know if he will make it until then. Not when the pain of his leg is so all encompassing, so mind-numbingly _present_ that he is breathing heavy from it. A very light, almost panting, as if he had just finished a light jog. It sounds harsh in the empty flat, the pain turning him so cross that he had sent Daisy home to their mum before he started to snap at her like some prick. Like _Dean_. 

He wants to punch something. 

He hobbles into the loo and pulls down his bottle of pain pills, staring at them with a mixture of wariness and need. He _could_ take another one. It would be justifiable and even if it wasn’t no one would know but him. And it’s not like he’s going to snitch on himself, yeah? Just one extra pill and in an hour he would feel so much better. It wouldn’t be like those months right before Dais came along. Those months where he was running drugs and stolen shit for Dean, contemplating peddling his arse out double time for himself just to put some money back to so he could get the fuck out of there. Where he was going he had no clue, but fuck, anything had to be better than that dingy fucking flat with too thin walls so he could hear Dean banging his mum, or the worst, Dean _and_ Poodle banging his mum. He hates V-Day and Valentine for everything that it took, but a sliver of him is fucking thankful for that signal taking care of Dean and his dogs in one fell swoop. 

But during those months before his flower came into his life he was depressed and had pockets full of drugs. Weed was okay, fun and he liked the smell, but nothing he couldn’t stop if he needed to. Coke made him violent and homicidal. The fucker that touched Jamal’s little brother could attest to that. If he could attest to anything any more. If anyone could find him. He never touched it again. But pain pills did exactly what he needed. They wrapped him in a layer of cottony goodness where he didn’t care who was fucking his mum, who was fucking him, or who he was fucking. He didn’t feel like shite because he was selling someone’s gran’s pearls that he stole last week. He didn’t care if Dean beat the fuck out of him. 

He didn’t care about _anything_. It was fantastic.

It took seeing his mum’s pregnant belly and realizing that Dean weren’t going to step up and take care of her, or the baby when it came, for him to realize he was the fucking man of the house so he better act like it. He disappeared for three weeks, holed up in an empty flat on the estate, with food and water, while he shook, cried, and puked his way through withdrawals. He never touched nothing stronger than a pint until he become an agent, and until Harry came back from the dead, he never took pain pills home with him. Then he asked Harry to dole them out, telling him he had a tendency to get off his tits on them, absolute truth, and forget if he has already taken them. Also true, but it was a forget-on-purpose type of situation. 

But now he’s alone for the first time in years with the very thing he loves like a long lost twin. Oblivion in a bottle.

He shakes one out into his hand and raises it to his mouth. His hand trembles, his tongue reaches for it, his neck remembering how to arch just so in order for him to dry swallow it with the least amount of effort and chance of choking. 

He drops it on the floor in disgust and drags himself up the stairs to his bed. Why the fuck he thought it was a good fucking idea to put his goddamn bed on a second floor is beyond him when he _knows_ what he fucking does for a living. Maybe Harry was right, maybe he needs someone to take care of his arse because he’s too fucking dumb to do it himself.

 _No_. No. He is not going to beat up on himself because there is no one else for him to yell at. He’d call Harry and tell him to steer clear if he wasn’t desperate for any sort of distraction from this pain. 

He lays down on his good side, curled up into a miserable ball of pain and hate and rage. His leg throbs and feels like a white-hot rod has been inserted through the sole of his foot. He looks at his watch again. Only twenty minutes has passed.

He gives it a death glare, the fucking piece of shit.

Oh. His _watch_.

He dials the face to _knockout_ and turns it towards his neck.

—————

Harry lets himself since Eggsy did not answer the door. He goes through the house quickly, looking for him. He finds the open bottle of pills on the sink with one on the floor. He tosses it in the toilet and flushes it. It was one of the placebos he made and mixed in with the actual medication on his last visit. A stroke of genius if he does say so.

Not finding Eggsy anywhere downstairs, he heads up to the loft where Eggsy sleeps. Eggsy lies in a heap in the bed with one arm next to his head, and the other hanging off the side. He sees a faint blinking light. He goes closer, shifting Eggsy until he can see what it is. A knockout dart from Eggsy’s watch sticks out of his neck. 

Harry shakes Eggsy by the shoulders but he doesn’t respond. His pulse is steady, his breathing deep and regular. Harry thinks he might have thirty minutes before Eggsy wakes up.

Just long enough to bring this complete waste of time Eggsy sees as asserting his independence to an end. Harry has tried multiple things to get Eggsy to see that he _needs_ Harry whether he wants to admit it. He has held his temper in check, _for Eggsy_ , God help him, but this has been going on for a week now. It truly is beyond the pale. 

Harry stands back and contemplates the situation. He has an idea but executing it without hurting himself or walking Eggsy up will be a challenge. He thinks for a moment before gently sliding his arms underneath Eggsy and sliding his top half to the floor. He then takes Eggsy’s legs and lowers them down as well, careful not to jostle the broken one. His weak leg shakes, buckling once, as he pulls Eggsy a few steps away from the bed and arranges him as he likes. 

He picks Eggsy’s head up with both hands and presses his lips to his forehead. “Understand, darling, this is for your own good. You’d thank me if you understood that. But I think you will, eventually.” He looks down at Eggsy’s face, all the lines that pain has drawn into it smoothed out. He smiles. 

And then he, with the proper amount of force because he’s not an _abuser_ , knocks Eggsy’s head into the floor boards hard enough to leave a bruise. Eggsy doesn’t even flinch. He arranges Eggsy so that it looks like Eggsy had gotten up out of bed, forgetting his leg was broke, and fell in an inelegant pile, knocking his head against the floor. Harry sits next to Eggsy, resting his leg which is trying to cramp up, while he watches him for signs that he is waking. Harry combs his fingers through the boy’s hair while he messages Gipson to let him know Eggsy has decided to stay with Harry due to some unforeseen complications, that no, thankfully, are not serious, but would he mind Harry stopping by his office tomorrow to discuss Eggsy’s upcoming therapy appoints for his leg? Excellent.

Right on time Eggsy makes movements that show he’s coming back from his self-induced nap. Harry gets up, goes down stairs and out the front door. He then knocks, increasing his force, as he watches on his phone, through the backdoor he still had through Eggsy’s security system, as Eggsy slowly comes awake.

He lets himself in, picking the lock with the pick in his wallet, calling Eggsy’s name.

“Harry?” Eggsy says.

Harry goes up the stairs and crouches next to where Eggsy is sitting up on the floor, looking confused. 

“What are you doing on the floor, darling? Did you fall? Is that why you didn’t answer the door?”

Eggsy looks down at the floor and then back up at Harry. He shakes his head and then winces, reaching up and grabbing it.

“Fucking hell,” he says. “Fuck, I don’t even know how I got down here. Last I knew, I was on the bed, trying to sleep until you got here, but I couldn’t, the fucking pain was eating me alive. So I darted myself, and that’s the last thing I remember.”

“You darted yourself? Why?” Harry asks, horrified.

Eggsy looks done in and his eyes go watery. “I couldn’t handle the pain, Harry. My meds weren’t working and I was fucking mad and I wanted you and I wanted to sleep, so I helped myself along. I just wanted to sleep until you got here. I didn’t know you could get up and move around when you were darted.”

“Yes, it’s rare, but some people do. We usually aren’t around to witness it.” Harry smiles at him and let’s concern cloud his face. “Eggsy, I promise you I am not doing this to intrude on you, but I would really feel better if you came home with me for a little while.” He holds up his hands, “just until you feel a little more stable on your leg, without the medication. Let me take care of you, make sure you are feeing alright, make sure the dart has no lasting effects when coupled with your medication. I should call Gipson and ask.”

“No!” Eggsy says. “I mean, no need to worry him. And yeah, Harry, I’ll come home with you. I was just thinking earlier that you are the only thing that helps when I feel like I did earlier. Somehow all the pain goes away when I am around you.”

Harry smiles. “I am happy to be of service. Now, let’s get you back on to the bed. How long has it been since you took a pill?”

“Three hours.”

“Too early for another one,” he says and Eggsy’s face falls. “Come on,” he says as he helps Eggsy to his feet, “lay back down. I will go get you some tea, and while you drink it, I will pack your bag for the weekend. By the time we get back home, if you are over the dart, I don't know what were you _thinking_ , and you are still in pain, I will give you another pill.”

“Thanks, Harry, I don’t know what I would do without you. No one loves me like you do.”

Harry kisses him when he gets him in bed and goes down stairs, stopping by the loo as he heads to the kitchen. In the loo he takes a pill, one of the correct ones, out of the bottle before pocketing it, and while the tea is brewing, he crushes it to a very fine powder to mix into the tea. 

There is a reason being around Harry always makes Eggsy feel better.

Five hours later Eggsy is where he belongs, resting comfortably on Harry’s couch with his head in Harry’s lap. While Eggsy naps, properly this time, Harry sips his whiskey and works on his iPad. He carefully inserts hardware malfunctions into Eggsy’s security feed. White noise here, fuzzy focus, complete failure before coming online, going dead at the point where Eggsy went upstairs to lie down. If anyone watches it, it will seem like the camera simply died. He will reboot it late in the morning tomorrow. Being a handler has taught him so many useful things. He should have done a stint as one _years_ ago _._

He combs his fingers through Eggsy’s hair, enjoying the thick silkiness of it and frowning when he feels the lump Eggsy got from hitting the floor earlier. His fingers dance over it lightly and Eggsy makes a soft whimper. 

Eggsy is so lucky to have him. Who else would love him enough to make sure Eggsy makes the decisions that are right for him by guiding him the way Harry does?

No one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, in an effort to make Eggsy believe he fell when he was asleep, knocks his head into the the floor, while Eggsy is unconscious, hard enough to make it bruise. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments. Please continue to let me know if you see things I have missed. Have some con crit for me? Send me a message on tumblr :)
> 
> Also if my Arabic for prostitute was wrong I blame Google Translate and would love it if you corrected me.


	6. Chapter 6

Roxy calls Monday morning after Harry has left for work.

“You’re back at Harry’s?” 

“Yeah,” he replies. As he talks to her, he plays one of those match the candies games, his fingers moving somewhat groggily over the keyboard. Harry had given him his medication before he left since Eggsy had asked him to hide it under the auspices of him forgetting his proper dosage. The bright colors were fantastic when he was like this. _Everything_ was fantastic when he was like this. “While I was alone in my flat on Friday, I darted myself to get some sleep and then fell. Scared me, and Harry, half to death. I decided that I shouldn’t be alone, at least the cast is off.”

"You darted yourself? Are you serious?"

"I was in pain, Rox. I was desperate."

"So take another dose of your pain medication."

"Long story, but I can't do that. I just wanted to sleep until Harry got there, yeah? It's not a big deal."

"You're dependent on him, you understand that right?"

"Roxy, love, I am high as a kite right now. I can't be having a deep conversation about boundaries or unhealthy codependency or wherever you are going with this."

"You could have come over and stayed with me.”

“You planning on helping me shower, Rox? This your way of making a move?”

“I hadn’t thought about that. In fact, I don’t _want_ to think about that, it nauseates me. I saw enough of your bare arse in training. I have no desire to see it again.”

Eggsy laughs, glad to have the conversation light again. “It’s fine, sweetheart, you're in love with me. I mean, who wouldn’t be? I just hate knowing I am breaking your heart by being with Harry.” Eggsy pauses, pretending to think. “Listen, I’ll promise you that if Harry and I ever break up, I will go out on a date with you. Might even kiss you if you’re good.”

"Well in that case, I hope I am throwing bird seed at your wedding very soon. I may mention that to Harry when I see him later, just to get the ball rolling," she says.

Eggsy laughs until tears are streaming down his face. These pills made everything so fucking funny. He loves it.

“I fucking love you, Rox. Fuck,” he says, wiping his eyes. “What am I missing at the manor, anything good?”

“No, Merlin is terrifying the new recruits. He put them through camouflage training today, not telling them that Uncle Alistair and I were out in the field with dart guns. If you could have seen their faces when everyone started just dropping like flies with no sense of why. I think it might be Merlin’s way of flirting with my Uncle. It’s all terribly cute.”

“Stone cold Merlin, a giant snuggle bear at heart. I’ll never find him terrifying again.”

“I’ll pass that along when I mention the engagement to Harry.”

“Please don’t.”

They talk for a few minutes more before hanging up, Roxy promising to tell Harry to bring him some of those orange biscuits he likes so much, and the vanilla ones, so he can have some choices. And some milk because he just finished it. And some cereal because that’s gone too. Oh, and he also would like pizza for dinner. Or Nandos, whichever Harry would prefer.  

“For fuck’s sake Eggsy, I am not your secretary. Just text the man your bloody list already,” Roxy yells into the phone before hanging up. 

To his credit, Eggsy tries texting Harry the list but he isn’t sure it’s coherent. Harry should get the point though, he thinks, before he tucks the duvet around him and falls back to sleep.

—————

It’s week four of staying at Harry’s when he broaches the subject of going back to his flat for the rest of his time out of the field. He’s in a boot now, although it looks to be a month or more before he gets back into the field. He has been going to the manor a few days a week helping with research and catching up on his paperwork. Merlin loves him best right now because he is the only agent that has zero overdue mission debriefs. 

Harry has always made it more than clear that his family, and by extension, Ryan and Jamal, are always welcome but Eggsy doesn’t feel right about having his mum, who disapproves, now quietly, of Harry even if Harry is to polite to notice, or the boys over, especially when they and Eggsy would be up half the night drinking and playing video games.

“Eggsy? Are you home?” Harry calls as he comes through the door.

“Where else would I be?” 

“Bad day?”

“No, just grumpy I guess. I’m sorry,” he says into the material of Harry’s shirt when Harry hugs him close. “Feeling cooped up an all.”

“Why don’t we get out of the house tonight? We could go out that that new Italian place Merlin suggested.”

“Yeah, fine.”

“We can go somewhere else if that doesn’t suit.”

“Nah, it sounds good. I was thinking that I might go back to the flat after the weekend. I want to see Jamal and Ryan, get pissed, fuck about, yeah?”

“You don’t need to go back to your flat to do that, have them over here. I have yet to have a conversation with them that extended past social niceties. I want to get to know them. They are your best friends and very important to you, which by extension, makes them important to _me_.”

“I know Harry, but we like to drink, get rowdy, act like arseholes. I want to do that somewhere I am not bothering anyone.”

“I assure you that you won’t be bother…” Harry cuts himself off when he looks at Eggsy. “You’re right, of course. You should go home for a while then, if that is what you would like to do. I hope this will not be something permanent however, you will still come over here and stay as well?”

“Much more than I stay at the flat. I just don’t know if it’s time for me to be moving in yet.”

“I thought you already had, but I understand that you may not be ready for that level of commitment yet. You’re young, settling down is probably the furthest thing from your mind right now.” Harry’s eyes are on the floor.

"Come on, Harry, it ain’t nothing like that." Eggsy takes Harry's hands. "I don’t plan being with anyone but you, but I also need my own space. Call it residual whatever from living in that two bedroom flat with mum and Dean. Dean always in my face, me always scared to carve out a space of my own because he would take it back and more. I’m still enjoying my flat because it’s something I ain’t never had before. 

“Besides, when I picture us moving in together I see us moving in to some place new, some place that is _both_ of ours. Small garden with a shed for you and your dead butterflies,” Harry smiles at that, “and a sound proof basement for me and my mates to raise hell in.”

“And a princess room for Miss Daisy.”

“Yes, Harry.” Eggsy leans up and kisses him. “Want to go get that food now? I’m starving.”

“Of course, darling, let me just go freshen up and we will be on our way.”

—————

Harry walks up the stairs to the bedroom, his face stormy. Eggsy wants to leave and go back to that thrice-damned flat. He thought that this foolishness had ended the last time he tried giving it a go without Harry. He saw what happens when Harry isn’t around. 

It’s not good for him. It’s not good for Harry. 

And once he is over there and Harry has been banished to the dark to wait, what will he be getting up to? Will Tilde be calling him again? Will he call her?

No, this will not happen again. Eggsy will come to see that this house is where he belongs if it’s the last thing Harry does. 

He goes into the en-suite to make sure his hair has not begun to curl from the wet in the air and opens the medicine cabinet, taking out and dry swallowing a small pill. He finds that he is still serviceable but trades his jacket for a black turtleneck sweater that makes Eggsy rub up against him like a cat in heat. Eggsy comes barging into the bedroom, his eyes lingering on Harry’s broad chest in his favorite sweater as he takes off the sweats he was wearing downstairs.

“Goodness, Eggsy, I didn’t expect for you to be so overcome by me in this that you come in and take your clothes off, as lovely as it is.” 

“I’m just changing. Can’t go out on the arm of a fit bloke like you and look like some knobhead in sweats, can I?” he asks as he pulls a sky blue shirt and jeans out of the wardrobe. “Don’t want someone to steal you away from me just because I ain’t looking my best.”

“You always look wonderful to me.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. “You’re so corny sometimes. Can you help me on with these jeans?”

Harry can tell Eggsy expected him to put up more of a fight over Eggsy going back to his flat, he is cautious during dinner at first, but once he sees Harry is simply happy to be out with him, he relaxes. His laughter rings out through the restaurant, making more than one pair of eyes glance at him, though most are appreciative. The ones that are not do not stare long after they see Harry, but then again neither do the ones that are. Eggsy drinks his wine until his cheeks flush. He strokes Harry’s calf with his good foot, winking and eating his breadstick in such an over the top suggestive manner that Harry chokes on his wine with laughter. 

Once home he simply leads Eggsy up the stairs, strips him, and thanks to that little pill earlier, fucks him into the mattress while holding his still healing leg out of harm's way. 

In the morning he leaves a lazy Eggsy warm and naked in his bed, making him wish he was taking the day off instead of going in, but he has business to attend to. Before heading to his office he makes a detour to medical, thrilled to see Enide sitting in the nurses station.

“Enide, my dear, you are as enchanting as ever.”

“You’re a damn liar, I'm wretched. My husband brought home a new puppy for the children and as cute as it is, it stayed up half the night crying. Guess who stayed up with it?”

“I doubt it was your husband or your children.”

“Exactly, but what brings you down here? Are you feeling under the weather?”

“No, but Eggsy is. I think he had some bad food last night. Would you mind terribly if I nipped into the supplies room and grabbed a few things for him? He is, how shall I put this delicately, _unable_ to leave the house today to come in himself and I know our stores puts the chemist’s to shame.”

“Would you like me to call Dr. Gipson?”

“No, no need. I’ll send him an email later. I can pick out a few things to help Eggsy’s stomach.” Harry smiles, embarrassed, like he can’t believe he is such a besotted old fool that he is here begging for medicine for his young lover’s tummy troubles.

“How is he doing? Is his leg getting better?”

“Much. I am sure that he will be here soon enough insisting being allowed back out, but I am a little worried, he has seemed to have a few more headaches than I think is normal, and this isn’t the first time he has been sick. I am sure it is the restaurants we are eating at. I really should cook more, but Eggsy loves to eat out since he didn’t when he was younger, and how can I say no?”

“Perhaps you should bring him in, let us run some tests.”

“I have asked him to come in, even just stop down here when he is in the manor working, but he refuses. I can’t very well force him, but if this continues, I will bring him in, even if I have to bring Merlin into it.”

“Good. Well, get what you need out of the locker,” she says, pushing a button as Harry hears the door behind him unlock with a _snick_.

“Thank you, Enide, you are a treasure.”

“Just get Eggsy feeling better. We miss him, although we would rather him visit just to visit next time.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

Harry goes into the pharmacy locker and goes through the shelves, taking what he needs and placing it all into a small bag. He goes to work with a smile on his face. 

Later that night, he and Eggsy are cuddled together on the couch and Harry is weighing the merits of seeing how fast he can make Eggsy come with his lips wrapped around Eggsy’s cock or another cup of tea. He’s tired, so the tea is in the lead. Eggsy’s phone vibrates and he pulls it out of his pocket to tap at it.

“Who’s that?” Harry murmurs against Eggsy’s hair where he has pressed his lips, which also allows him a full view of Eggsy’s screen.

“Jamal, was wondering what time we was getting together Monday night, figured I’d head back to my flat Monday morning when you go into the office.”

Harry hums noncommittally, “And when do you plan on returning?”

“I don’t know, we can play it by ear, ‘sides, you can come stay over at mine too, yeah? I’ll get your posh tea, your fancy fucking honey, and even a bottle of that whiskey you don’t put in your tea at night.”

“I don’t put tea in my whiskey, or whiskey in my tea.”

“I can smell it, Harry, for fuck’s sake,” he laughs, nudging Harry in his ribs. “Point being, maybe I would like you to come stay at my place for a few days now and then.”

“Of course, I would be delighted.”

Which he would not be, not in the slightest. Eggsy’s flat, while suiting Eggsy well, makes Harry’s teeth grind. It is very modern with beautiful colors, Eggsy has a knack for matching things together that should not go together, but there is no refinement, no sense of order and control. That’s why Eggsy and he worked so well, Eggsy was beautiful bespoke paired with winged trainers and Harry kept all of his chaos under control. Just another way Eggsy needed Harry. Just another way Harry was useful to the boy. He was glad to be, glad to do this even though Eggsy didn’t see it yet. That’s what love is, doing things for the person you love without recognition. 

Harry kisses him one more time before he gets up and goes into the kitchen to turn the kettle back on. Once back in the living room he drops to his knees before Eggsy and slips his shorts off. 

“Harry?” Eggsy asks, but helps him with his shorts anyway.

“I was wondering if I could make you come before the kettle goes off. One should always challenge themselves.”

The kettle squeals just as Eggsy does. 

—————

Eggsy wakes up alone in the bed Sunday morning, he can smell coffee from downstairs and here the soft classical music Harry favors in the morning playing. He rolls over.

And almost vomits.

 _Fucking hell_ , he thinks, pressing his palm to his stomach. He mentally goes over what he ate yesterday, hoping that it is just a simple case of bad fish or some such shit. 

He sits up. _Huge_ mistake. Now his head is swimming and black spots appear in his vision. He is going to puke, he knows this, and he knows he has to get to the loo but he's not sure if he can walk. He stands up only to fall to his knees. Fine, crawling then. He’s not above crawling, not when it means he might actually make it to the toilet to get sick into and not all over Harry’s rug that probably is worth more than his life. 

 _That rug is a present from the Queen as thanks for taking down seven plots to kill her in one day and walking the royal dogs, thrice. We are very good friends. She has her assistant send me a pre-preprinted Christmas card every year_ , he imagines Harry saying in his head. He almost laughs until he realizes that might be the worst idea he has ever had. He presses his lips together tightly and keeps crawling. 

“Eggsy?” Harry walks into the room. “Why are you on your hands and knees? Good God, you look awful. Are you sick?”

Eggsy nods, which makes those damned back spots appear again, and keeps moving to the toilet. He can see it. Almost. 

He doesn’t make it. If this was a mission, extraction would have left his broken and bruised body to rot in the sand. As it is, he only manages not to land in his own sick because Harry pulls him back against his chest and is already wiping his mouth off with his apron. Harry props him up against a wall before fetching him water to wash out his mouth. 

Harry helps him into the loo where he is sick again, although at least this fucking time it’s on tiles and not the Royal Rug. He fetches Eggsy some more water. Eggsy lies on his side, still retching but on an empty stomach now. Harry lets him lie there while he runs a hot bath, strips Eggsy quickly and settles him in, leaving the trash bin in arms reach before disappearing out of the door. 

He comes back sometime later. Eggsy might have dozed off because Harry has changed out of the office clothes he was wearing under his apron into soft flannel trousers and a t-shirt, his glasses or eye patch are no where to be seen. If Eggsy didn’t think he might die, he would be happy at how comfortable Harry has become around him, comfortable enough to know that Eggsy could give a toss about his “disfigurement.” 

“You ain’t going to miss work for me?”

“I most certainly am. I’ve put a pot of broth based soup on and some bread in the oven. I have your favorite show queued up, and we, including JB, are going to sit on the couch and rest until you are better. Today was more of an office day anyway, so I am perfectly able to do the work from home.” Harry grabs a flannel from the shelf and kneels on a towel he has rolled up to rest his knees on.

“But…”

“No, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Why, Harry? I mean I know you love me, but why do you take care of me like this?”

“Because you deserve it, all of this and more, and because it makes me happy to take care of you when you need it.” Harry kisses his forehead as he wets the flannel.

“I am sorry I got sick all over your rug, probably worth a small fortune.”

“That thing? That was my Aunt Marge’s. I believe her husband died on it.”

“That is fucking rank. Why the fuck do you keep it?”

“I figured I couldn’t do anything worse to it, and at the time I needed a rug. After a while I suppose it just became part of the background. You did me a favor by ruining it.”

“A gentleman is always happy to be of service or something like that, right?”

“Indeed,” Harry answers while washing Eggsy. 

Eggsy is sure he will be back on his feet within the day. He’s never one to be sick, the most he ever got when he was a kid was a cold, and even that he had to get over mostly by himself because Dean certainly wasn’t buying any medicine for his snotty arse. He nicked a few antibiotics of Jamal’s gran and he was better in no time. 

At lunch, Harry gets him to try a little soup and juice. He does, and he makes it about an hour before he is kneeling under Mr. Pickle bringing it all back up. He wants to believe, when he rolls over on to the floor and looks up at the stuffed dog, that Mr. Pickle feels sorry for him. “Thanks, Mr. P.,” he mumbles.

“Eggsy, are you talking to my dead dog?” Harry asks from the doorway. Eggsy doesn’t remember hearing him come in. 

“Watching me puke, bruv, are you bored?”

“I was worried about you, you’ve been gone thirty minutes.”

“You’re mad, I just got in here.”

Harry kneels down, wiping Eggsy’s mouth again. He holds his hand to Eggsy’s forehead. “You aren’t feverish, but you are clammy, and off color. You losing time is worrisome, Eggsy. We should go in to the manor, have you looked over.”

“Nope, not going to happen. I’ll be fine by tomorrow. Probably just that dodgy fish we had last night.”

“That fish was from one of the finest restaurants in the city.”

“Doesn’t mean it weren’t dodgy,” Eggsy is violently sick again. 

“Eggsy, I would really feel better…”

“Harry, I promise you, if I ain’t better by the morning I will go to medical with a smile on my face, swear down.”

Harry sighs but says nothing further. 

By evening he is able to manage more soup and Lucozade, and a couple hours after that, a little more. He and Harry both breathe a sigh of relief, thinking the worst is over. Until it starts right back a few hours later. JB and Harry sit in the bathroom with Eggsy most of the night. JB a comforting weight along one side of his leg as he leans against Harry who is dozing, propped up against the wall. Eggsy will settle for a small amount of time before he retches again, which jolts Harry awake and makes him paler each time.

Eggsy hates himself for the trouble and worry he is causing. 

“Harry,” he cracks out, his voice raspy from the irritation in his throat, “Get off the floor and go to bed, love. Please. I ain’t going anywhere, promise.”

“I certainly will not. If JB can sit sentinel, I can as well.”

“JB is a dog.”

“Still, the premise stands.”

“I haven’t been sick in a couple hours, I am going to lie down. You and JB come with me, yeah?”

Eggsy stands up, the rooms spin and he immediately hits his knees in front of the toilet so hard that the pain would have made him cry out had he not been getting sick. He looks down into the toilet bowl seeing that the water and bile tinted red. He looks up at Harry, his eyes wide. 

“We are going in.”

Eggsy nods. 

Harry quickly goes back into the bedroom, grabbing his glasses to call a black Kingsman cab. He has to go because he doesn’t want medical testing Eggsy _too_ thoroughly, not at all. This just tells Harry that he needs to be a little lighter on the dosages next time. He wants Eggsy to see how much Harry loves him, how much he takes care of him, not rip his esophagus to pieces. 

Eggsy has followed him into the bedroom and is staring into the wardrobe in a daze. 

“You had might as leave on your pajamas, Eggsy, unless you fancy them putting you in a hospital gown. I’m not changing, although I’ll take a suit in. They will most likely shoo me out of the room at some point, and I could do some work so I can stay home more with you when they figure out what is wrong.”

“God, I ain’t dying am I, Harry? I mean it would be a fucking shit thing if I survived being an agent to bleed to death from sicking up all over the place.”

Harry comes over and puts his arms around Eggsy, resting his chin on top of Eggsy’s head. “Darling, you are not dying, you more than likely tore something. I am sure you will be fine. I won’t leave the manor till you are allowed to.”

“You don’t…” Harry pulls back and looks at him, his eyebrow arched. “Right, ta.” Eggsy hugs him tighter for a brief second before he runs to the bathroom again. 

 _Lesson learned_ , Harry thinks with a smile.

In medical, they rush Eggsy away from him for testing. Gipson pats him on the arm, tells him not to worry, and follows Eggsy through the doors. Harry slumps down into the waiting rooms chairs.

“I spend more time here for your boy than I ever did for you,” Merlin says as he comes through the door. 

Harry doesn’t look up. The lack of sleep is wearing on him and he feels like if he is left alone for five minutes he will be out. “You probably are. With me you usually came down to ask me _what the fuck happened?_ , and _how could I be such a complete and utter shit agent?_ , and finally to tell me, and this is my personal favorite, _your gran executed falling out of her wheelchair when she died with more grace than I did when I fell through that sky light_. With Eggsy you bring him sweeties from the shop down the street from the tailors and tell him that he is a good agent, and a handsome agent, and how thrilled you are that he is turning out nothing like me.”

“Harry, if you think that boy is turning out _anything_ other than just like fucking you, you’re more daft than you look.” He sits next to Harry, stretching his long legs, encased in worn denim, out and handing Harry a mug of tea.

“A mug, Merlin, truly have we devolved so much that we drink tea out of _coffee_ _mugs_?”

“I can take it back if you like.” 

Harry glances over at his friend. “Merely asking a question, Merlin, not disparaging. So are you here fixing servers or testing out new gear from the tech children?” he asks, pointing with his chin at Merlin’s threadbare sweat shirt “And if you are testing out new gear, I am offended you didn't call me in to play. ”

“I'm fixing servers, besides it seems like you have had your hands full tonight as it is. How is he?”

“Sick to his stomach and by this morning he was vomiting blood, although not in any alarming amounts that I could see, and it wasn’t coffee grounds, so it wasn’t old. More than likely he tore something from being sick so many times, and violently. Merlin, I have never seen the like.”

“Fever? Chills?”

“Nothing, and we ate at the same place the night previous, so I am at a loss as to where this came from.”

“Could be a twenty-four-hour thing. Enide went home with it the other day.”

“I spoke to her, I wonder if I brought it home to him.” Harry’s shoulders slump.

“Harry, if you did, it’s not as if you meant to get him sick, right? God, it's like that time Mr. Pickle got pancreatic from that bite of biscuit he accidentally got to before you could stop him. You've always had a soft spot for puppies who don’t know any better,” Merlin says, smirking.

“Oh, do fuck right off.”

“I was planning on it. I have two more servers to fuck with before I can go home to Alistair.”

“Home?” Harry blurts. 

Merlin’s eyes narrow. “Fuck, I had meant to tell you some other time, like in ten years.”

“Alistair is living with you? Who sold who’s flat?" Harry holds his hand to his heart. "Good lord, it's as if my two maiden aunts have finally learned what sex is. I am buying you a housewarming basket. Lube and an instructional manual, though it's mostly for you as it’s been so long you probably forgot how.” Harry gives Merlin a serious look. “Alistair will not be happy with the same position every night just because that is the only one you know. You have to spice it up, keep him interested.”

“And this is why I wasn't going to tell you. Alistair hasn’t sold his flat, and I haven’t asked him to. He is staying with me while he is having it renovated and we are seeing how the whole cohabitation lark suits us. And as for keeping him interested, I certainly have no issue there. Would you like to see my back as proof?” Harry shakes his head. “And if you want to discuss each other's sex lives, how does Eggsy feel about you chewing cock pills like they’re candy?”

“He can’t complain when he his mouth is full, can he?” 

“Forget I asked. I don’t know what he sees in you.”

“I am handsome, well off, and, thanks to those pills, can fuck him like he has never been fucked before. There _is_ something to be said for age, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, I would. And now that I am older, and know that, I am fucking pissed at myself for not grabbing myself a Daddy for a turn when I was young, pretty, and dumb.”

Harry laughs. "Too true." He waves Merlin off. "Go fix your tin foil boxes. If there is any news, I’ll let you know. Give Alistair my best."

Merlin stands. “I’ll check with you later.”

Cedric comes through the opposite doors just as Merlin is leaving. 

“He’s in a room if you would like to come see him and speak to Dr. Gipson.”

“Yes, Cedric, thank you.”

In Eggsy’s room, a nurse Harry does not know that well is tucking Eggsy into the bed, a job he immediately comes and takes over, side eyeing her. Eggsy rolls his eyes. 

“Doctor?” Harry asks.

Gipson finishes scribbling something down before speaking. “We could not find what is causing Gaheris to vomit, but we found the irritation that is causing the bleeding. We have given him something for his stomach and a sedative. The irritation should heal itself once he stops being sick. I would like to keep him here until morning so that we can replace some of the fluids he hasn’t been able to keep down and also monitor him for any additional sickness, but that is up to him.”

“I’ll stay Doc, seeing that blood scared me a little.”

“This coming from the lad who once shrugged off a gunshot wound.”

“Yeah, well that was supposed to bleed. My stomach ain’t.”

“You are as bad as he,” he points at Harry, “was when he was your age. I could tell you some stories.”

“Need me a good bedtime story before this stuff kicks in any way, Doc. Pull up a chair.”

Harry stands to usher Gipson out. “I am quite sure you have other patients, let’s not keep you from them,” he says, hearing the man to the door while Eggsy laughs quietly behind him. 

Once he gets Gipson, and that overly familiar nurse, out of the room, he goes back to bed and crawls in beside Eggsy. There is just enough room for them both if they lay on their sides. Eggsy wiggles back, pressing himself more tightly against Harry’s front and sighs.

“Thanks for keeping me company, Harry. Guess I need to text Jamal and tell him I ain’t going to be back at my flat today. Is it today if I haven’t been asleep yet? Fuck, I can’t even think straight.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of everything. You just get some rest. I’ll be right where when you wake up.”

“Thanks babe. Sorry we seem to spend so much time here though. We ought to do a room up for ourselves, pick out some colors and fabrics. Really make it a home, yeah?”

“I’ll talk to Gipson, I am sure he will approve. The way the medical staff treats you, you would think you are the second coming of King Arthur himself.”

“Maybe I am, bruv. Maybe I’m the golden boy-king come to save my faithful subjects from the evils…of…” and then he is asleep, the sedative kicking in. 

“You’re _my_ golden boy-king,” Harry whispers into his ear before burying his nose in the soft silk of Eggsy’s hair, not caring it smells slightly sour with the sweat of the sick, and follows him to sleep.  

—————

Eggsy is allowed to go home with Harry the following morning. He had not been sick since the tests at medical, he had gotten back some of the fluids he had lost, and had even managed some very light food. It still hurt to swallow, but not too much. He was just happy to move without being sick all over himself and anything that had the misfortune of being near him. Harry had taken a few days off to stay home with him while they made sure his illness wouldn't reappear.

Harry, knowing that Eggsy felt down about not being able to go home to his flat yesterday as he had planned before he had gotten sick, has given Eggsy the day to himself, popping in only to check on him and then going back to the basement where he was playing with his butterflies. Eggsy appreciated it, he really fucking did, but he had so been looking forward to seeing Jamal and Ryan, making piss poor eating choices, and talking shit all night. 

He scowled at the Xbox Harry had presented him with this morning when they had gotten home before disappearing into the house, telling Eggsy to enjoy himself and to yell if he needed anything. _A life_ , he thinks, _I need a fucking life_. One that did not involve fucking medical every time he turned around, and one that didn’t involve his fucking boyfriend mothering, or smothering, him. 

As soon as he finishes that thought, he feels like a right fucking arsehole. Harry fucking cleaned his puke up. He sat with him on the loo floor all night. Christ, had he shit himself, Harry would have cleaned that up as well and Eggsy was pissed about life so he was being a cunt. All that talk about Harry not lashing out at Eggsy when he was mad and Eggsy does the same thing, he just doesn’t say it out loud. Eggsy has always been honest about his faults even if he tries to forget they exist. 

He curls further into the sofa corner pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and the ends of his sleeves over his fingers. 

He’s still scowling. 

The doorbell rings and he hears Harry coming up the stairs to answer it. _Won’t even let me answer the goddamn door_. _I don’t know if he’s scared I’ll fuck the other person right there on the front steps or if someone touching me will somehow fuck me up again._  

Eggsy hears a male voice murmuring and Harry saying, “Impeccable timing. Through here if you please.” Three people coming into the living room. Harry could’ve fucking _told_ him he had invited some people over so Eggsy wouldn’t look like a fucking twat in sweats. At least the arseholes brought food with them. Eggsy could smell it. His stomach rumbles, and for a split second he thinks he will get sick at until he realizes that he is just hungry, like actually _hungry_. 

“Eggsy, a gentleman would greet his guests,” Harry says. A childish part of Eggsy wants to keep his hood up and refuse to say anything, even _go fuck yourself_ , but he doesn’t. He pulls the hood down and sees Ryan and Jamal standing there, holding takeaway. Harry stands next to them, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other holding on to the wall for support, beaming at him _. His balance must be fucked up from being down in the basement bent over that table,_ he thinks. 

Eggsy is, swear down, the biggest arsehole he has ever had the unfortunate luck to meet. Harry has given his space all day, to his detriment, given him a gift and brought the boys night to him since he couldn’t go to it, and Eggsy spent the whole day pouting. 

“I know that it disappointed you that you couldn’t have your night with your friends, so I brought them to you. You have the Xbox, and the games had you stopped pouting long enough to check the box,” Ryan and Jamal laugh, Jamal stage whispers about what a _fucking baby Eggs can be,_ “you have your friends, and some takeaway that you should be able to stomach. As for your musty boyfriend, he will be downstairs in the basement for quite sometime, and even after he comes up, he has work,” he winks at Eggsy, “approved, noise canceling ear plugs, so please be as loud as you want.”

Ryan and Jamal head into the kitchen, leaving the takeaway they had brought for Harry on the table in the foyer. Once they have left the room, Eggsy marches right up to Harry and throws his arms around his neck, whispering in Harry’s ear, “I fucking love you, you old bastard. I owe you so much for this.” 

Harry tilts Eggsy's head up so he can kiss him while he slips his hand inside the back of Eggsy’s pants. “I am thrilled that you realize that, darling, because I have _every_ intention of collecting on that, very thoroughly. Possibly until you are unable to walk.” His gives Eggsy’s arse cheek a possessive squeeze. “I will say, and I hope this doesn’t go to your head, but you have what is quite possibly the loveliest arse I have ever had the supreme pleasure of getting my hands on.”

“I bet you say that to all the boys you bring home.”

“Maybe, but this would be the first time I meant it,” Harry replies, smiling at him.

“You are the best, Harry, swear down. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I am glad I did it. You are so good to me even when I am being an ungrateful little shit.”

“Hush,” he says, kissing Eggsy once more. “Go, have fun. God knows you deserve it after these past few weeks. All I ask is that you take it just a little easy when eating and get me if you feel bad again.”

“Promise.”

————— 

Harry takes his takeaway that the boys brought him and spends the next three hours pinning the specimens that had been left to sit through the Lancelot trials when his only thoughts were of Eggsy is his bed, through Kentucky where he doesn’t know what his thoughts were, to the time after he came home and all he could think of is how much he had lost. 

They deserved better than to sit down in the basement, moldering. He had already lost a couple to his poor preservation skills. It is his fault for not taking better care of them, and he berates himself for allowing that to happen while he preserves the ones that remain. 

He has always found this to be the most relaxing of hobbies, even more than knitting. He liked knitting because you either had a simple pattern and could lose yourself, or you had a complex one that required enough concentration that it was possibly to forget everything else besides the feel of the yarn in your hands and the count of the stitches. 

This, however, was about responsibility, preservation, ownership. These butterflies, which he had taken for himself, were now under his care. Since he had taken them from their rightful habitat, he had a duty to keep them beautiful and safe. For some he had failed, but he would make that right by caring for the ones left to the very utmost of his ability. He would place them in the most beautiful of frames, places of honor on the walls in the downstairs bath, the lighting arranged just so. 

His mother had found this pastime to be pointless, a perfect example of what an absolute disappointment he was. _What is the use of this, Gerald_? she would ask, grabbing the frames he had built with his small hands in the shed the groundsmen used to fix things, and throwing them to the floor. _What purpose does collecting dead things serve? None, I tell you. Learn a hobby that makes sense. Perhaps shooting so you can take guests out hunting, football to foster relationships and teamwork, anything that will turn you into the man you need to be to take care of this family. That is what you are for, Gerald, to make yourself the best man you can be for_ us _._ She would stride out of the room, her shoes grinding some of the small bodies into the floor boards. 

Harry didn’t start lepidoptery again until after he joined Kingsman and he felt the need to exercise control over _something_. It served him well through the years, giving him an escape when he needed it the most, giving him something to take care of. 

He hears Eggsy yell something before all three of them laugh. He smiles.

They are still going strong when he comes through to give Eggsy a quick kiss goodnight. Eggsy looks a little tired and pale, but he has JB in his lap and his friends on either side of him, and he is smiling more than Harry has seen of late so he says nothing, trusting Eggsy to know where his limits are. 

He cracks his eyes open to look at the clock when Eggsy climbs in beside him. A small, waddling thump hits the end of the bed and he knows that JB has joined them as well. A little after four, earlier than Harry expected. He rolls over, pulling Eggsy against him. He smells like cool morning air and cigarettes, and Harry loves it. 

In the morning he slides out of bed and goes downstairs to pick up what remains of the night before. Instead of a wreck he finds the living room and kitchen as clean as if the housekeeping staff had just been through. The kettle has fresh water in it, his favorite tea cup is out, and there is a small pastry box from the bakery he loves just down the street that he knows doesn’t officially open until five in the morning. Eggsy must have sweet-talked Mrs. Michelson, the sweet old lady who runs it and who treats Eggsy like a son. 

_Thanks, love. Looking forward to you collecting on that debt._

—————

“Hey, Harry, I was just calling to tell you that I am going to stay over here tonight. It’s late as fuck and Dais still wants me to read to her. I need to grab different clothes, anyway.” Eggsy looks at his phone where he is FaceTiming with Harry, a very bed tousled and bare chested Harry. 

“Are you quite sure, I don’t mind waiting up.”

“I have to admit, seeing you all comfy in that bed is making me regret my promise to Dais, but I can’t let her down.”

“And you shouldn’t, but you know how I sleep without you next to me.” Harry pouts a little for show.

“You sleeping like the fucking dead, mate, no matter who’s next to you. You sleep so well the other person can’t sleep from all that snoring you are doing.”

“That is incredible bald-faced lie and I am shocked you would say such a thing about the man you profess to love.”

“I profess nothing, I make bold statements of fact,” Eggsy replies. 

“Eggsy, time for my story!” Daisy yells behind him.

“The princess calls. I’ll meet you at the shop tomorrow morning, eight?”

“I count the hours. Love you, darling.”

“Love you too.”

Eggsy hangs up and stuffs his phone in his pocket. 

“Coming princess,” to which he hears Daisy’s answering laugh. JB is a lump on Daisy’s bed already, a fat ball of tawny fur that snorts in his sleep, shaking the whole bed. 

“I’m not a princess. I am a knight.” 

He sits down and rests his back against the headboard, pulling her against him. She’s a lovely warm weight in his arms and she smells like the strawberry shampoo their mum used on her in the bath. 

“Now where did you get that idea?”

“When you brought Uncle Harry over, he told me a story about knights and princesses and kings. He said that you were a knight in shining armor and that you rescued people. He said I could be a princess. I told him I would rather be a knight because you were the best and I wanted to be just like you.” She burrows tighter into his side in her little Peppa Pig jammies and Eggsy feels his eyes prick. 

“Thank you, Dais,” he says, his voice thick. He doesn’t ever remember being the sort of person he would ever expect anyone to look up to, much less emulate, but for his sister, the one who he does everything he does for, to make her safe and her world safe, to be the one looking up to him tears him to pieces in the best way possible. Just another thing to thank Harry for, because if it weren’t for him he would still be fucking about doing nothing, _being_ nothing. 

He clears his throat. “Well, I don’t know no stories about knights, but I’ll read you any book you want.”

“Harry Potter?”

“That’s my girl.”

Eggsy reads long after she has fallen asleep, just so he can stay next to her a little while longer. His voice has grown hoarse by the time his mum comes to get him for tea.

“You should get going after this, it's late to be running back to Harry’s,” his mum says. 

“I ain’t going home tonight, I’m staying upstairs. I have to get some of my other suits for work, the spring ones now that winter is turning.”

Michelle stares into her tea cup, pulling the rose colored robe around her. “Got to look your best for clients?”

“Too right,” he says, posh, and she laughs.

“I’m not educated, but I’m not stupid either.”

“What?”

“I’m not stupid. You know I remember Harry from that night we found out your dad died. Lee, when he was calling home from where he was ‘stationed,’ kept telling me about this tailor shop he might get a job at. The man couldn’t staple paper straight much less sew a damn button, and you weren’t no better, but suddenly both of you might work at some tailor shop? Where Harry works?”

“Um…”

“That’s what I thought. Explains you coming home banged up a lot, and why you don’t come home for weeks on end. I don’t like it one fucking bit, but you are a grown man and I have to remember that. I won’t ask, you won’t tell, because I think it might be better that way for both of us, but no one better ever come knocking on my damn door with a fucking medal for you, yeah? Especially Harry, you get me?”

“Yes, mum.”

“Good. Now I need you to do something for me.”

“Someone you need killed?” he tried to joke, until she gives him such a mum look that he almost puts himself in the corner for a time out.

“That’s not even funny, Eggs.”

“Sorry.”

She sighs and gathers herself, drawing her legs under her on the chair, like she used to do to feel secure. “I’ve met someone.” Her eyes quickly move to meet his, frantically searching his face for some tell of his reaction to the news. “He seems nice, but after Dean, I don’t trust myself. So I was wondering if you could make sure I am not bringing home another monster. I fucked up with you Eggs, I don’t want to do it again with Daisy.” 

She slides a piece of paper across the table at him. A name and address is on it.

“You did the best you could. Besides, I turned out pretty fucking great, yeah? Handsome as hell too.”

She rolls her eyes. 

“I’ll check him, and if he isn’t what you think he is, he won’t bother you.”

“So, Harry’s is home now, huh?”

“Uh… I guess?”

“Earlier when I mentioned going back to Harry’s you said you weren’t going home, you were staying in your flat upstairs.”

Eggsy thinks about it for a moment. He thinks about his flat, which he loves, don’t get him wrong, but it’s empty even when he’s in it. He’s empty when he is in it unless he has someone there. Then he thinks about Harry’s where he is never empty, even when he’s alone because Harry’s presence is everywhere, wrapped around him. It’s warm, and cozy, and everything he wanted in a home that he never had before. 

“Yeah, mum, yeah, it is home. I just hadn’t realized it yet. I kept pulling back from his house because I felt like I would lose something of me if I moved in, but I ain’t, you know? He isn’t trying to take anything away from me, he isn’t trying to change me. He never asked me to give up the flat or something like that. I thought that we needed to find a place of our own to be home, but home is where Harry is, and if he wants to stay in the stuffy home where it looks like Ryan’s Auntie exploded in it, it doesn’t matter.” He stands up and gives his mum a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks mum, I’ll let you know what I find out about…” he glances down at the card, “Tom Hiddleston? You’re dating Hiddles, mum?”

She throws a balled up piece of paper at him. “No one likes a smartarse, Eggs.”

“Oh, I read it wrong, it says Stephen Evans. Don’t know where I got Hiddles from.”

He takes the elevator back up to his flat. He is one week away from being cleared for field work and his is not taking _any_ chances with his fucking foot. Once he gets inside, he walks around just looking at everything he has here, trying to find something that makes him feel _at home_. Nothing does. He goes up the stairs to the loft area, stripping as he looks in the wardrobe, choosing what he will take with him tomorrow. Once nude he pulls the suits out, sealing them in bags, packs some causal clothes in that LV bag with the ever so fucking discrete gold K’s all over it that he stole from Harry, and calls for a cab to pick him up. He told Harry eight in the morning so that means Harry will get there about thirty minutes after that. He tells the cab to get him at eight. He'll still beat Harry there. Git.

Eggsy leaves the bags next to the foot of the stairs and lays out his clothes for tomorrow. Once in bed he starfishes. He loves sleeping with Harry, but there is something to be said for taking up all the available room in the bed because you _can_. He does it when he can’t as well, but Harry snores like a train so he figures they are evenly matched as far as annoying bed partners go. It’s a damn good thing they have each other. 

He calls Harry.

“Eggsy, something the matter?”

“Nah, just wanted to hear your voice before I went to sleep.”

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

“And more, bruv, and more. I wanted to ask you something too though.” He pauses, his heart pounding out of his chest, even though he knows what the answer will be. This is a big commitment for him, one he didn’t think he’d make for a long time. He had wild oats to sow after all, only sowing them seems a bit of a bore. “I'm ready to move in.”

“I… well, I thought you wanted to get a place that was new to both of us, and we haven’t even looked yet.”

“Don’t matter where we live, Harry, as long as we are living together. You’re my home, not the four walls that surround us.”

Harry clears his throat.

“Harry, you crying?” 

“Certainly not.”

“Right.”

“Darling, this was your home the minute you stepped foot in it. I was just waiting for you to figure that out.”

“Sorry, I took so long then.”

—————

Its anti-climactic when Eggsy “moves in” with Harry. Harry was right, he had moved in a long time ago. He brings the rest of his clothes over, a few belongings, and then he takes the keys to Ryan and Jamal’s flat. Ryan is at work and Eggsy is just lucky enough to catch Jamal at home.

“What’s this, bruv?” Jamal asks, when Eggsy tosses him the keys.

“Keys to the flat, Jamal, what do you think? I’m moving in with Harry but I don’t want to give up the flat just yet, so I figured you and Ryan could stay there, keep an eye on my girls.”

“We can’t afford that, Eggs. We're barely affording this shit heap,” Jamal says as he gestures around the one bedroom he and Ryan share. “Hell, we’re both working two jobs for this.”

“I ain’t asking you do afford it. I need someone to keep an eye on my flat, and Mum and Dais, in case they need some help with something, but I ain’t just letting some shithead move in there, and I ain’t ready to sell it. Besides, you need somewhere for me to come when Harry and I have a fight. I need to kept in the lifestyle I’ve grown accustomed to, yeah?”

“You’re an arsehole, Eggsy Unwin. What the fuck are those posh fucks going to think when they see me and Ry moving in?” He waves his hand at himself, his jeans, black hoodie, t-shirt, and his trainers. “They are going to think we’s casing the joint or something.”

“Fuck them, since when do we care what other people think? I’ve already gave your notice to the arsehole running this fucking place, and he’s something, Christ, I smelled him before I saw him, so you can move in this weekend. Just get your clothes and what not and go. I’ll be over Tuesday if I can and we can have a housewarming party. Actually, you know what, I will _definitely_ be over Tuesday night. Invite some of the boys, and the girls. I’ll bring Rox, Harry, and Merlin, and his boyfriend.”

“Merlin is that tall bald bloke, scary as fuck?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Ryan will shit when he finds out he’s into men. He’s been nursing a hard on for him since we met him right after V-Day.” Jamal sighs and looks at the keys. “I don’t like getting a handout, Eggs.”

Eggsy leans forward and grabs Jamal’s hand where it wraps around the keys. “Jamal, if the roles were reverse and you were the one with the means to help _me_ out, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, bruv, you know I would.”

“And would you see it as giving me a handout?”

“No, it’s taking care of family.”

“And that is what this is, me taking care of my family. You and Ryan are my brothers, the ones who sewed my eyebrow shut when Dean busted it open. The one who beat the fuck out of that punter that wouldn’t take no for an answer after he got what he paid for. You guys… Jesus.” Eggsy can’t speak thinking of all the fucking _shit_ they have gone through together. Ryan and Jamal catching shit, and fists, from other kids on the estate when they came out seven years ago. _I don’t know if I’m gay, bruv,_ Jamal had told him one night when they were pissed on some shitty sweet shit Jamal had stole from his mum, _but I know I love Ryan. Can’t see myself with no one else. And he feels the same_. 

They are more than family. The blood, violence, and pain that they went through forged a bond between them that nothing could break. Eggsy would walk through a fire to save them, and they would do the same.

A drop of wetness hits Eggsy’s hand and he realizes that Jamal is crying. Eggsy sits next to him, hugging him.

“I… I want Ryan to have nice things you know, and I can’t always get them for him. I don’t want him to come home to a flat where the paint is peeling and you have to make sure you don’t step in the corner next to the loo because you might fall through. I don’t want him to have to sleep on a mattress on the floor. And now you’s handing me the ability to do that, to take some burden off of us, and I can’t breathe for how fucking grateful I am Eggs. I can’t fucking breathe, mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the continued kudos and comments :) As always, let me know if there are any mistakes I missed while editing, and if you have any con crit, drop me a message, anon or no, on tumblr. 
> 
> *MWAH*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy is back in the field and it causes some issues at home.

The party is in full swing when Harry and Eggsy arrive with Merlin, Alistair, Roxy, and some guy she introduced as Jeffery. He looks like he worships her, and knowing Rox the way he does, the bloke does frequently. As Rox proceeds him into the house, because Eggsy is a goddamn gentleman, he catches the other man’s eye and makes the “I’m watching you” gesture. Good old Jeff’s eyes widen when he takes in Harry, Merlin, Alistair, and Eggsy all looking at him until Rox turns around and catches them at it. 

“Don’t worry about them, Jeffery. They aren’t as frightening as I am.”

Jeffery’s eyes glaze over when he looks her, and he grabs her hand, pulling it towards his lips. “You’re exquisite.”

Eggsy is going to be sick he thinks, sick with happiness for his best friend because Rox deserves someone who thinks she drools stardust, but he can’t let him know that. At least not until Merlin does a more thorough background check than Rox ever thought of doing.

“If you’re quite done, Roxanne,” Alistair says from next to Merlin, “I would like to find some alcohol. I think it might be the only way I'll be able to listen to this music.”

Harry pats his back in a commiserating way. “Trust me, Ali, it doesn't help. I’ve been blind drunk and the only time it made it bearable was when I finally passed out.”

“Well, it can’t hurt,” Alistair replies, pushing in the door. 

“Ali! Holy fuck, Ali isn’t in a suit. Ryan, look at this shit,” Jamal yells when he sees Alistair is wearing jeans and a jumper. Granted they are both black, much like _all_ the suits the man wears, but still, it’s pretty fucking casual for Alistair. “I swear if your bloke walks in and he _isn’t_ wearing a jumper, Ryan is going to have a heart attack.”

“Oi! Go fuck yourself, bruv,” Ryan says from across the room, his cheeks red.  

Eggsy gives Harry a kiss on the cheek and a grope on the arse, then heads into the crowd of about forty people, ninety five percent of them being the kids he grew up with. Some were friends, some weren’t, but tonight Eggsy is happy to see them having a great time because of something he provided. 

The flat feels like a home to him, and a home _for_ him as well, more so than it ever did when he was living here. Jamal has his arm around Ryan’s shoulders as they laugh at something Merlin said. Roxy and her boy are talking with Crisco, _long story_ , and her girlfriend, and he scans the room looking for…

“Eggsy!” a feminine voice yells right before a girl his age jumps into his arms. She kisses his cheek and bats her eyes at him. “I haven’t seen you in forever. Ryan and Jamal said this was your place before you gave it to them.” She takes in his polished oxfords, dark jeans and deep, almost black, emerald green shirt with blatant approval. “Looks like you’re doing pretty fucking well.”

“Jessie? Wow,” he says, almost speechless. Jess was the first girl he slept with (her brother was the first boy but that’s another long story). The last time he saw her she was a skinny little sixteen-year-old with all the awkwardness that goes along with it. Now. _Jesus_. Now she has filled out and looks like a pinup girl that you’d find in old nudie magazines in your grandad’s basement. Her black dress looks like she might have sewn herself into it with how tight it is, and they way she is pressing up against Eggsy gives him a perfect view right down her cleavage, which is ample and soft. Her dark skin shimmers with whatever glitter shit girls dust over themselves. Eggsy can smell her perfume, feminine and light, and for one brief moment he bemoans the fact he isn’t single because Jessie is… well.

Wow.

“So, if you gave them this, what’s your new place look like? Maybe I can come by, maybe you can give me a tour of it.”

Eggsy disentangles himself from her arms. “As lovely as that sounds, I doubt Harry would appreciate that.”

“Flatmate?”

“Boyfriend.”

“Oh, which one is he then?” she asks, peering about the room, looking for a person she doesn’t recognize. “I’m down with two guys at once. Is he the gorgeous one in the black jumper or the bald daddy next to him?”

“Neither, they are together though.” He sees her eyes widen in interest. “They are very happily and very exclusively together, Jessie. It’s not like you are desperate for a shag with the way you look.”

Her attention is back on him instantly. “You like the way I look?” she asks as she raises a hand up to his hair and twirls it in her fingers.

“Anybody with eyes would like the way you look, Jessie.”

“So who is your bloke then, or did he not come tonight?”

Eggsy looks around and sees Harry, looking cool and fucking sharp as frozen glass in black trousers and a deep red shirt, his black leather eye patch over his eye and his silver handled cane in his hand. He catches Harry eye and winks at him. Harry, who was watching him with a slight frown on his face, smiles back. Eggsy knees weaken just a touch. “The gent with the eye patch.”

“You never.” Jessie’s dark rimmed eyes widen as she looks back between Eggsy and Harry. Her mouth, which was sexy a moment ago with its berry stained lips, curls into a moue of disgust. Eggsy’s spine stiffens.

“I never what?”

“Eggsy, he looks old enough to be your grandad.”

“He’s the same age as the ‘bald daddy’ you was just eyeing up.” He jerks a thumb at Merlin, still talking with Jamal, hand firmly placed in Alistair’s back pocket.

“He has a cane, Eggsy. Ugh. I can’t believe you're with _him_.” 

“You’re going to need a fucking cane if you keep talking shit about him.” His hands clench into fists. He tries to never hit out of anger, _ever_ , but he is fucking close to it, and she needs to leave _now._

“I thought you had a good job or something, that is why you were suddenly throwing money around, but I see you’re just paid well.”

“You fucking _bint_. ”

She makes a rude gesture and walks off. Eggsy stands in front of the windows trying to ease his breathing into a normal pattern. 

“Something wrong, bruv?” Ryan says as he comes up to him. 

“Nah, mate, just Jessie being a cunt, as usual.”

Ryan looks over his shoulder at the woman in question, who is being led to the door by Merlin. “She’s still pissed because you ended up seeing her brother longer than he saw her for.”

“Yeah, well, if she would have had more personality than a wet sack of hair…”

“That’s fucking rank, cuz.”

“… Maybe I wouldn’t have had to go after Matthew. He was fit though. I wonder what ever happened to him.”

“Jesus, Eggs, thought you knew. He got knifed in a fight just a couple of months before V-Day, during your, uh,” Ryan’s eyes shoot to the side, “apprenticeship thing.”

“Does _everyone_ know more than they should?”

“I don't have the slightest fucking clue what you’re talking about, bruv, and even if I did I still wouldn’t, you get me?”

“I get you. Anyway, changing the subject, you guys got this place looking great.”

“Yeah, I wanted to…”

“Swear down, Ryan, fucking mates or not, you thank me and I will knock you clean on your arse.”

“Like you fucking could, no matter what sick sewing moves you think you learned at that fancy shop.”

“I fucking could five years ago with a broke arm, so I am almost positive I could now.”

“You want to have a go?”

“Nah, bruv. Fucking Jamal would kick my arse,” he says, shaking his head. Ryan giggles next to him. “Seriously though, Ry. You guys got this place feeling like a home more than I ever did when I lived here. Before it was just four walls to keep my stuff in and to fuck in, but you guys make it feel all homey and inviting and shit. Never thought you had it in you.”

“Listen, just cause we’re rough doesn’t mean we can’t make a place look nice.”

“Who helped?”

“Fuck you, no one.”

Eggsy levels a look at him and crosses his arms.

“Rox might've made a few suggestions, but that was it.”

Someone calls his name and pulls him into a group of more people he hasn’t seen since he left for the Lancelot trials. Everyone is interested in knowing him now that he has money, and he has to slide his way out of more embraces than he cares to be in. Every so often he will look for Harry, finding him, in turns, deep in conversation with Merlin, Jamal, and even, at one point, his fucking mum, _who was smiling at him_. Harry could charm the knickers off the Queen, and probably has at some point. If not a queen, at least minor royalty. Eggsy bagged a princess even, and he ain’t half as suave as Harry is. Each time their eyes meet Harry grins, Eggsy grins back, and he makes a move to go over Harry until he gets pulled back in again. Some time later his phone buzzes in his pocket.

_I am heading home, it’s late for an old man like me. I have spoken to Jamal and Ryan, and they said they have a bed ready for you. Please do not try to make it home tonight if you continue drinking. I will come around with a cab, say nine-ish in the morning, to get you so you don’t have to sort it out yourself. I love you, and you looked gorgeous tonight. No one could keep their hands, or their eyes, off of you._

Eggsy looks up, his eyes darting around the flat, but Harry is no where to be seen. He glances at the time on his phone and feels like a right fucking prick because it’s after one in the morning and _of course_ Harry was fucking tired. But, instead of him reminding his prick boyfriend that, he leaves Eggsy to have his fun, fun he didn’t include Harry in at all. 

“Harry said you’d make faces at your phone when you got that message, that’s why he said he wasn’t sending it til he got home.” Jamal says from his left. “He weren’t mad, Eggs, he said he loved seeing you enjoy yourself. I’ve only talked to him a little, but he seems like a nice enough bloke.” Jamal shrugs.

“He’s fucking aces. I love him more than I though was possible, you know. Like soul deep.”

Jamal’s eyes search out Ryan who is deeply involved with the pinball machine in the corner. “I do know…”

“What ain’t you saying.”

“Nah, it’s nothing, mate.”

“Jamal, who the fuck you talking to, yeah? Come on, I ain’t going to be mad, I mean unless you call him an one-eyed, gimped up corpse or something.”

“No. It’s just… well, he watches you Eggs, like _watches_ you. All the time. Like he is making a mental note about every single person you speak to, who touches you and where, and then he is deciding if he approves or not.”

“He’s a jealous git, Jamal, I am not going to say he ain’t, but he’s harmless. I’m just as fucking possessive, I just am a little more subtle about it. You know I would never put up with any abusive shit. You _know_ this.”

“I know, I just got to keep eyes on your back. That’s my job.”

—————

Harry waited until he got home to send the message, ensuring that Eggsy would not follow him, ensuring he would stay. It was a dreadful night first having to watch that little bitch rub herself all over Eggsy before she had the audacity to look at Harry like _he_ was lacking. The only thing that made it bearable was seeing Eggsy angered by something she said after she had gotten a look at him. He assumes it was not complimentary. 

The rest of the night turned out no better. Eggsy drifted from group to group, each one fawning all over him since he had money now, as evidenced by his clothing, his bearing, and of course his gift of living accommodations to Ryan and Jamal. They all thought that if they rubbed on Eggsy enough some of the gold could rub off on them as well. As if they deserved Eggsy’s time. Ryan and Jamal were one thing. They were Eggsy’s brothers, more than brothers even, from the stories Eggsy told Harry in the middle of the night when nightmares woke him, nightmares not of blades in disco lights or gunfire, but of shouting voices and fists aimed at young, small children that couldn’t fight back. Ryan and Jamal were Eggsy’s family, so they were now Harry’s as well, and from the way Merlin, Alistair, and Roxanne acted around them, they felt the same. A Kingsman’s love and loyalty was hard to win, but once you had it, you had it for life.

But the rest of those opportunists? They weren’t worth the dirt they drug in on their shoes. Harry hopes that Ryan and Jamal will find themselves a better class of people to spend time with now that their fortunes are looking up. Just tonight they both mentioned their desire to return to school. Harry thinks the offers of scholarships they will receive this week will surprise them.

At the party, Merlin had kept him sane when he could. “Harry,” he had said when he had taken him by the shoulders and physically turned him away from Eggsy. “Could you be less of an overly protective, jealous prick? You do this every time, and I am always there to help you pick up the pieces, but I swear to you now, you old goat, if you fuck this up with Eggsy, I'll let you clean your own damn house after your drunken rage. Are we clear?”

“You never have before.”

“I never really liked the other fuckers you have dated. I, against my fucking better judgement, like that lad over there. He’s kind, he’s sharp as goddamn tack, and he’s way too good looking for you to be putting your lecherous hands all over.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. "Hamish, that is the rudest, and quite possibly the truest thing, you have ever said to me. I am affronted." Harry grinned. "He is rather good looking. Far better than Alistair."

“I will blind you with the melon baller.”

“I hardly think Ryan and Jamal have a _melon baller_.”

“Michelle brought it. She'll help.”

“I’ll help what?” Michelle asked as she walked up to them holding a sparkling water.

“Help me take out Harry’s other eye unless he stops pissing on your son’s leg.”

“I make it a policy to not know my son’s sexual interests, Hamish, thank you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry said, throwing up his hands. 

“Hamish is right, Harry. He isn’t the only one who has noticed you staring at Eggsy like he is about to fuck someone else right under your nose. My Eggsy is loyal, yeah? So why don’t you go play with your friends, let my son play with his, and it will be fine.”

Harry had grit his teeth and replied, “Of course, Madam,” as evenly as he could, and spent the next few hours having a delightful conversation concerning the feasibility of the shop designing a line of bespoke chav wear with Ryan, who had already made some sketches. Wonderful boy and talented as well. Harry thinks that along with helping him get into a school, an internship at the shop would do him, and the shop, well. With King gone, it's time to shake things up. 

He left without saying goodbye to Eggsy because he was sulking, he is man enough to admit it, and he knew Eggsy would follow him if he did. And he was trying _not_ to be the jealous old lech everyone thinks he is.

Harry sees nothing wrong with him watching Eggsy. He is overprotective, yes, but he is just keeping an eye on Eggsy, making sure no one takes advantage of him. Something the other people that proclaim to love him so much should do as well. 

He makes it two hours at home before he breaks and checks the video security feed to see what Eggsy is doing. The party is finally breaking up. There are a few people passed out in various places around the main living area. Ryan and Jamal lie curled together in the loft bed, and Eggsy, well, Eggsy is… Harry cycles through the feeds. 

Harry bolts upright when he hears the front door open, his hand going under the pillow for the gun he keeps there when he is sleeping alone, gripping it tight as he slowly begins to slide out of bed. 

“Hey, JB, it’s just daddy coming home,” Eggsy whispers, louder than he thinks he is being, slurring slightly. JB’s collar jangles in the quiet as Eggsy scratches his neck. “Your other daddy up in bed? Thought I was just going to stay there, pass out and probably be joined by god knows who,” Harry’s heart clenches at the thought, “fuck that, yeah? I am coming home to sleep next to him. Come on then, let’s go to bed.”

Harry quickly closes the security feeds down but leaves the laptop on his lap as if he had fallen asleep with it on. He “wakes” to Eggsy closing it and putting it on the bedside table.

“Eggsy, I asked you to stay there not come all the way back here.”

“I called a cab from the shop, Harry, ‘sides, I gave that flat to Ryan and Jamal because I wanted to be _here_ with you. Seemed like I was defeating the purpose a little. Go back to sleep, I’m going to wash this fucking shit beer out of my mouth.”

—————

Eggsy jaunts down the street, snapping horrendous selfies, saying lewd things to any woman he walks past, and looking like some rich twat that needs a good thumping in the nearest back alley. A thumping he would be only to happy to dole out if he wasn’t the twat in question. 

All of Eggsy’s selfies, when perused a little closer, show the same men meeting in various locations in Paris. The men, the leaders of various small militant factions within the country who were discussing forming one, much larger, militant group, had been meeting with increasing frequency over the past few weeks. Eggsy is doing simple intel, and if he can get close enough, some bug placement. 

Pre-broken leg Eggsy would have been bitching to every single person he could have cornered long enough to bitch to, but post-broken leg Eggsy is so thankful to have something to do that doesn't require walking some Lady McSymthingbottom’s, or whatever the fuck her name was, diarrhea stricken dog in order to find out of she was smuggling some royal heirlooms out of the minor palaces by feeding them to said dog that he kissed Merlin’s bald head when he got the assignment.

He stood there, staring at Merlin, both too flabbergasted to move, until he noticed a slight hint of red creeping up from Merlin’s collar. 

And then he fucking ran. 

Fucking hell, Merlin is quick though. Must be those ridiculously long legs. 

Eggsy gets all the selfies he can, making each one as atrocious as possible just because he _knows_ Merlin will be the one picking over them identifying all the players, and he even, because he is Slick as Fuck™ plants a bug on three of the men when he drunkenly bumps into the table. For a tense moment, he thinks he overplayed his hand and is about to get his arse beat, but he smoothes things over with a few bottles of very expensive wine while Harry laughs about him blowing the budget and Merlin’s blood pressure. 

In and out in three days. Not a scratch on him unless you count that time he was shaving a nicked himself when Harry sent a nude to him. A nude. From Harry fucking Hart. He defies anyone to glance down at their phone where they have been texting their supposed _gentleman_ lover and see a picture of that lover with his cock in his hands and not nick himself. 

_I swear down Harry, if you’re wasting those fucking pills on wanking when I ain’t home I am telling Merlin about you losing that bet._

_I assure you Eggsy, this is entirely natural, and since you aren’t here for it, I will have to take care of it myself._

_Only if you FaceTime me._

_Hang on._

_Yes, Harry!_

Three more missions after that one. Two bruised ribs, one glorious punch to the face that required some minor dental work, but no medical stays, no broken bones, just solid Kingsman Kingsman-ing. 

Eggsy was back in the game.

 _Fuck yeah_. 

—————

Harry watches Eggsy board the plane with a smile plastered to his face. His arse still aches from the bout of pre-mission sex they had and his lips still feel tender from the blistering goodbye kiss Eggsy gave him before he boarded. Harry waves and smiles until the door has closed. As soon as it does he turns, the smile evaporates, and he goes back to his office to work until they let him know Eggsy has touched down in Vienna. 

His mood is black. Seeing Eggsy jetting off to all the cities Harry once jetted off to, sharing stories of this chase and that tackle while they eat dinner, seeing him pull on the armor of a Kingsman _agent_ most mornings is reminding Harry of everything he no longer is.

He had thought he had come to terms with his life now. He is lucky and knows this. He has had a life most people can only dreamed about, and unlike every single one of his contemporaries, Merlin, Viviane, and Percival excluded, he has lived to tell about it. He can still work and his health is improving daily. The cane is now more of a help rather than a need, the migraines are fewer, and he has regained most of his strength. He will never be Galahad again, but he is not the broken invalid he was over a year and a half ago either. He has a gorgeous lover and a good, solid relationship with him. 

But he is losing his sense of purpose again. He, besides running Eggsy, has also been running a few of the newer agents, imparting what Merlins says is wisdom. They, like he before them, think that they know better than he does and do whatever the fuck they want. It got one of them killed last week. This seems to have made the other ones a but more receptive to direction, though not by much. 

Eggsy drags him to the firing range at least twice a week under the guise of teaching Eggsy some of his more infamous moves with firearms. Eggsy has his own unparalleled skill with guns so he knows it is for his benefit and not Eggsy’s. He has dinner at Merlin’s, now Merlin and Alistair’s, at least once whenever Eggsy is out of the country and Merlin pumps them for information. What mistakes are they seeing the newer agents making? Where can they improve training? Why are they out of alcohol already?

That last one is easily answered. They are out of alcohol because they all drink too fucking much, Harry most of all. 

But he also feels like those dinner dates are just another distraction, another way of placating him. Making him think he matters. Making him think he is worth something when he is only there because they don’t know what else to do with an agent who didn’t have the good manners to die before he became useless. 

He sighs, his head dropping into his hands.

He longs for the days when he could walk through the manor and people would look at him with respect, with deference. Galahad, the golden boy, favored of Arthur and the agency. Nothing could stop him, and even as he grew older, nothing ever did. 

Until a bullet in Kentucky turned him in to Ryence, the broken agent, a person to pity. Now Eggsy gets the looks he did. Medical fawns over the boy, practically offering him their firstborns to bless. Arthur has full confidence in him for him being such a young agent. Even Roxanne had to work for the same level of respect, but Harry thinks that is because Arthur feels a little threatened by Ms. Morton, rather than it being any reflection on Roxanne’s work. She is, from what Harry has seen, an exceptional agent. Even Merlin and Percival have a soft spot for the boy. And James? James would have fucking _loved_ Eggsy. They would have been two atrociously dressed peas in a pod. They would have made the tailors cry every single time they fingered the fabrics and discussed modern suit patterns. 

It feels as if Eggsy has taken everything Harry always loved about his life, just taken it from him, leaving only ashes in his hands. He might hate Eggsy a little, deep down in a place where he doesn’t ever look. He might hate him even as much as he loves him. 

“Ryence, Gaheris is landing in thirty minutes and has asked for you.”

“Of course, Islode. Please let him know I am on my way.” 

He stands, shoots his cuffs, and runs his hand through his hair. He turns towards the mirror on the wall making sure he is nothing less than perfectly put together. 

He is. Of course he is.

So fucking pointless. Every bit of it. 

Harry runs Eggsy through a very successful mission, listening to the exhalation in the boys voice with a clenched jaw and words that force themselves past his teeth. He knows Eggsy can tell there is something wrong, but Merlin has chastised them far too many times to discuss it over the comms. 

Hours later Eggsy bounds off the plane like an overeager puppy. Harry had debated just going home and waiting for Eggsy there, but there are even levels of prickishness that he won’t stoop to.

“Hey there, handsome,” Eggsy says with a wink. “Waiting for me?”

“I would hardly wait for anyone else,” Harry says, his voice cool.

Eggsy immediately drops the swagger. “Right, still whatever you are at me, then. Could you possibly explain what the fuck has crawled up your arse then, because last I remember it was me up there and you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“Lower your voice,” Harry hisses. 

Eggsy makes an exaggerated show of looking around. “Ain’t nobody here to hear me, Harry, Christ.”

Harry walks faster, almost forcing Eggsy to jog to keep up with him. “We will discuss it when we get home.”

“Fucking hell,” Eggsy rolls his eyes and mutters behind him, the post mission adrenaline buzz going from the sexual to the instantly pissed off and looking for another fight.

The ride home is tense, the only interaction between them coming when Harry fixes a drink for Eggsy and hands it to him. Once home they change in near subarctic silence. Harry has his nose so firmly in the air he can’t see around it and Eggsy, by the set of his jaw, knows he isn’t the one who started this so fuck it if Harry thinks he is apologizing for anything. Eggsy changes into the most hideous track pants he has, even if his arse looks bitable in them, black with bright orange piping, and coordinating shirt. Harry ponders blinding his other eye just so he doesn’t have to look at them. Harry simply takes off his jacket, leaving him in his shirtsleeves and trousers.

Downstairs Harry fixes them both another drink.

“So this is what we are doing all night, drinking and sitting in silence? Or can we act like fucking adults and discuss whatever happened between me leaving this morning and me coming back tonight?”

“You wouldn’t understand it even if I explained it.”

Eggsy plunks down on the sofa and kicks his feet up on to the table, daring Harry to say something. Harry does not. 

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that? Too stupid am I?”

“Don’t be absurd, never once have I intimated that I believed you to be stupid.”

“Ah,” Eggsy says, his accent so plummy you could make pudding out of it, “so good of you to never ‘intimate’ such a thing.” He rolls his eyes and knocks back his drink, fixing another for himself and topping Harry’s off. He seems to be getting into the spirit of the evening, Harry observes. Excellent.

“You wouldn’t understand because you’re young.”

Eggsy slams his drink down. “Jesus Christ. What? What in God’s fucking name would I not understand? You could, you know, _tell_ me what is fucking eating your fucking bollocks and see if I understand. And then, if I don’t, you could help me fucking understand. I may be the younger one but you’re the one acting like a goddamn child. Fucking _dick_!”

Eggsy, when angry, was one of the sweariest people he had ever met. His use of vulgarity was almost an art form. 

“If you dislike the way I am acting you do not have to stick around.”

Eggsy immediately hops to his feet. “Oi, fuck you mate. You should know that fucking shite doesn’t work on me. Remember the last time you told me I could hit the fucking door? I hit it then, and I am sure as fuck hitting it now. See, I thought this was my _home_ now, us living together in it as equals, but you don’t tell someone to get out of their own home. I guess that this is just some place I am staying. And before you say _‘Eggsy’_ in some placating way, let me respond with a hearty ‘go fuck yourself.’ I’ll leave these here.” Eggsy drops his keys, phone, and glasses on the table by the door and walks out.

Harry is right behind him. He reaches out and grabs his arm, not harshly, not even roughly, just trying to stop him. Eggsy whirls on him, looking at Harry’s hand on his arm and back up into his face. Harry is shocked to see not only anger in Eggsy’s eyes, but fear. 

 _Dean_.

“You have five fucking seconds to remove your hand, Harry, or so help me I will remove it for you.”

Harry instantly lets go. The last thing that he ever wants to happen between him and Eggsy is for any fight to become physical. “Eggsy, I was not trying to manhandle you, I was just trying to get you to stop for a moment,” he says in a tone of voice that communicates the fact he thinks Eggsy is overreacting, a message Eggsy clearly receives. 

“Nope, you don’t get to. I’m your boyfriend but you can’t talk to me about something that has got you so pissed off. I fucking moved in with you but you get to tell me to go? You don’t fucking stop me from leaving when I want to, you fucking get me?”

Eggsy grabs his jacket from the rack and walks out the door. 

“Don’t wait up.”

—————

The problem with cellphones is that no one memorizes numbers any more. Eggsy had left his so Harry couldn’t contact him but he failed to take into the account that now _he_ couldn’t contact anyone either. No phone, no glasses. Cut off from the world. His mum always gave him shit about letting something that small organize that much of his life. Hell, she’d have a right laugh about it now.

Luckily he has his wallet, and he at least knows the shop number so he can call a taxi into work tomorrow. In fact, he can have them bring him a suit in the morning so he doesn’t show up looking like a twat. Not that he personally gives a shit, but he feels it’s more of a respect thing, and Eggsy _always_ shows respect where it is due. 

He walks down the street from, hands jammed in his pockets, his brain an angry snarl of emotions. He doesn’t even _know_ what the fuck Harry was on about tonight. He could tell something was off during the mission, but Harry has his moods, and he still has migraines often enough that it will throw him off his game. Eggsy had decided he was going to, if Harry was still feeling like shit, pamper the fuck out of the man when he got home.

But, no, Harry had to be a fucking prick and now Eggsy was walking down the goddamn street, cold and wet because it was fucking London and of course it is pissing down just enough to be fucking _annoying_ , and he doesn’t know where he is going.

Ryan and Jamal are out because he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Mum is out because he doesn’t want to talk about it and she doesn’t need any ammo against Harry.

Roxy is out because he doesn’t want to talk about it, he thinks she might be in Peru, and he doesn’t know her cell phone number. 

Merlin and Percival are out because Merlin is Merlin and Harry’s best mate, and Percival is a mate but he is also Harry’s friend, and he doesn’t like talking shite about one friend to another. And he doesn’t know their phone numbers either. 

Hotel it is.

Eggsy hails a cab who stops for him even though the driver looks at his clothes with disdain. “I could fucking buy this goddamn cab so drive or I keep your fucking tip, guv.”

Eggsy gets a gorgeous fucking room and then goes downstairs to drink. Within five minutes he has a pro sitting down next to him.

“Lonely, love?” she asks. She tosses her thick red hair behind her bare shoulder and leans forward giving him a nice look down her front. He figures that’s free so he takes it.  

“Ta, but no, not really.”

Her hand trails up his arm. “I can make you forget about her for a couple hours.”

“Actually it’s him that I need to forget about, and you’re fit and lovely and I bet you’re aces in bed, but no matter how mad I get, I don’t sleep around.”

She shrugs. “Buy me a drink and tell me about it?”

He thinks for a moment. There is no harm in buying someone a drink, or paying them for the time they spent listening to his prattle on about his problems. “Yeah, I think I will.”

He buys a bottle and they head up to his room after he assures her he will pay her and that there will be _no_ sex. She says she is happy for the time off, a mini-hol if you will. Eggsy notices her accent sounds a lot like his once they get away from the bar. He likes it. 

“I’m Eggsy.”

“Ginger.”

“You’re fucking lying,” he laughs, looking at her hair.

“Would I?”

“No, I guess not.”

Yeah, he likes Ginger just fine. He talks for hours, telling her about Harry and everything that has happened over the past year, leaving out the spy side of Kingsman, of course, just saying he’s a tailor. He talks and he talks, and he sniffles once or twice while she offers her viewpoint and a tissue. 

Sometime around three in the morning he and she are lying on the bed, her curled up against him and him enjoying the weight of her small body next to him, half talking and half dozing, when he realizes he is going to be sick. _Fucking hell when did I become such a lightweight_ , he thinks as he stumbles to the bathroom. 

By a little after four Ginger has left despite her offering to stay, and Eggsy is still sick repeatedly, until he is crying in frustration. _Not again_ , he thinks, _please._

By half five he is calling a Kingsman cab for transport to medical. He passes out on the floor until they wake him and help him outside. 

He wants Harry, because Harry always makes him feel better. He wants to smell his cologne and snuggle into his cardigan until his stomach stops hurting and he stops being sick all over the place. But he can’t call because like a fucking prick Harry told him to leave and like a fucking prick Eggsy listened. 

And besides, he doesn’t know _his_ fucking phone number either.

He is going to memorize every goddamn number in that phone until he can recite them backwards while getting blown by Harry fucking Hart, the Albert Einstein of blowjobs, at four in the morning after waking up from a Kingsman dart, swear down.

His fucking life. 

—————

Harry’s cellphone ringing startles him awake a little after six in the morning. He is sitting in the arm chair that he passed out in a few hours ago, an empty whiskey bottle tipped over at his socked feet. 

“Hart.”

“Go wash your drunk arse up and get here.”

“Whatever for,” Harry asks, the previous evening’s mood still not dissipated.

“Eggsy just brought himself in to medical and he’s asking for you, although since you didn’t come in with him, and the cab brought him in from a hotel, I am assuming your stupid arse did something wrong, _again_. I considered not calling you but Eggsy insisted despite my urgings to the contrary. I told you what would happen if you fuck this up, Harry. Get in here, apologize, and make yourself useful by taking care of your boy.”

 _Make yourself useful_.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

—————

Harry blows into medical in a flurry of curly hair, long legs, and fuzzy gray pajama pants, because he wanted to be _comfortable_ while he got pissed, thank you very much. Enide falls into step bedside him.

“And why did he come in alone?”

“Is that really any of your business?”

“It can be, if I make it my business.” Her eyes glitter. She has never been one to back down from an agent.

“We argued, nothing more, nothing less. Both sides said things we shouldn’t and he left to spend the night elsewhere. Trust me, had he been showing any signs on relapsing into whatever is causing this stomach issue, he wouldn’t have left.”

She stops in front of him, considering. “He said you asked him to leave, told him to in fact.”

Harry rubs his hands over his face. “Enide, bloody fuck, yes, I was an arsehole. Everyone knows that I am, but if you will look on his medical file you see that I am his medical contact, meaning that unless he changes that, I have a right to see him, and as long as he wishes me to, take him home if Gipson releases him. Has he changed his wishes?”

“No.” 

“Then I shall see him.” Harry walks away, stops, and comes back to stand in front of her. He smiles, switchblade sharp. "I appreciate your concern over him, I truly do, but do not come between him and I, _ever_." He inclines his head, “Enide.”

“Ryence,” she returns.

Harry goes to Eggsy’s room and finds him curled into himself on his side, pale and sweating. 

He goes to him instantly, pulling up a chair and running his fingers through Eggsy’s damp hair. Eggsy’s eyes flutter open. 

“Harry…”

“Hello, darling, why are we back here?”

“Doc still doesn’t know what’s wrong. Said it might be Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome I think? Brought on by stress or some shit. Guess that means we can’t fight anymore.” Eggsy looks to the side, studying a wrinkle in the bed clothes while Harry continues to card his hand through his hair. “If there is a 'we.' Don’t know if you’ll let me back in the house after I left my keys and all, and I understand. I’ll stay here until I feel… _fuck_ , move Harry.”

Eggsy vaults off the bed and into the small bathroom, barely making it before retching again. Harry comes in behind him and wets a flannel. When Eggsy sits back from the toilet, he gently wipes his face, helps him rinse his mouth out, and then puts him back to bed. He goes out to the nurses station and under the watchful eye of Enide, at whom he tries not to bristle at, he fetches a basin. Once Eggsy has that in front of him, Harry curls up behind him, his arm very gently around Eggsy’s waist.

“Eggsy. Darling. You know that I say the things most calculated to hurt the person I am arguing when I am angry. I have, at your request, gotten better about not lashing out, but even I had to slip up eventually.” Harry sighs. “You wanted to know what is bothering me. Well… it’s you."

He feels Eggsy jump in his arms and his breath catch. 

“But not in the way you think, not in any way that is your fault. Understand this about me, I am foremost a vain and selfish man. A man concerned in making sure he gets what he wants when he wants it. I joined Kingsman in my twenties, along with Merlin as it was, and I was quite the dashing gentleman spy. James Bond had nothing on me. Bullets rarely touched me, and when they did, they never came close to being fatal. By the time I was thirty I was Kingsman’s most successful agent in terms of mission completes, kills, honeypots, everything. King treated me as if I was his first born son. Men and women put went out of their way to put themselves in front of me. 

“I had money, I had sex, but most importantly, I had _purpose_. I have to be useful, and in Kingsman, I was. I was King’s Excalibur. I went where he pointed and killed who he named. I killed and I fucked and I saved and I _didn’t_ save, all according to the needs of Kingsman.

“When we met, I was in my prime. I had the experience of a seasoned agent, something most of us never get to be, and while I was in my fifties, I was still in close to the shape I was in my thirties. You looked at me as if I was a god and I felt like one around you. I knew that we would end up in bed together, I just had to wait until the trials were over. I dreamt of being your mentor in the field and your lover at home. 

“And then Kentucky happened and I am none of those things, nor shall I be ever again.” Harry drags in a breath and is surprised to find tears slowing slipping down his cheeks. Eggsy lies still in his arms, listening, not wanting to break whatever is prompting Harry to this uncharacteristic openness. “When I woke up and Merlin told me what I was facing, I was optimistic at first. I had faced worse and come out on top, surely it could not be that dire. As the days passed I realized it was that dire. And when I realized I would never be Galahad again, that I would be Ryence, the defeated king, I thought about ending it." Eggsy makes a small sound and turns around to burrow into Harry, his hands coming up and gripping Harry’s t-shirt. He’s crying too. Harry wraps him up in his arms.

“All of this is to say that there will always be a ' _we_ ,' Eggsy, for as long as you want it because I never want to let you go. You took this broken agent who should have died on his feet but instead came back as a lifeless shell and gave him that life _back_. You gave me a purpose, you make me useful because loving you, caring for you is my purpose. As long as you need me I will be here for you.”

“I’ll always need you, Harry.” 

Harry tucks Eggsy’s head under his chin and smiles. 

“I know.”

—————

Alistair is doing the dishes while Merlin sits at the counter tearing some piece of machinery apart while swearing at it in Gaelic. Every few minutes though, he glances up to admire the picture his boyfriend makes at the counter wearing nothing but his briefs. Alistair, for as slim as he is, has the plushest arse Merlin had ever seen. The screwdriver slips in his hand. He swears some more. 

“You sound like a rumbling bear over there. If it’s that frustrating, put it down and come make yourself useful by drying these.”

Merlin grumbles some more but joins Alistair at the sink, picking up a towel after a quick snog and a grope. Twice Alistair opens his mouth and shuts it, saying nothing. Just as he is doing it a third time Merlin stops him.

“Say what is on your mind, man. You look like mentally deficient fish.”

“Do you find it odd how much Eggsy has been sick lately?”

“No,” Merlin replies, “should I? Do you?”

“I don’t, no, or at least I didn’t, until Ryan said something the other day about it.”

“Helping the lad with his internship then,” Merlin says with a wink, nudging Alistair with his elbow, “should I worry?”

“Please, the boy is young enough to be my son, besides, you’re the one he goes all bashful around. You walked into the shop the other day and he nearly swallowed a pin. But seriously, Hamish, Ryan says Eggsy has never been sick like this. Ever.”

“From what Harry says it’s some stomach issue caused by stress.”

“Perhaps Eggsy should revisit his life choices. He has been in medical for stomach issues what, four more times since their big fight? Four times in six weeks, Hamish, for a boy who hadn’t been to medical outside of mission related injuries since he stepped foot on the property.”

Merlin frowns. He folds his arms across his chest. “What are you suggesting, Ali?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I am suggesting _anything_ , but Roxanne, along with Ryan and Jamal, seem to think this is odd for Eggsy, and they are worried, and for how well they know him, that worries me. If being with Harry is causing him so much stress it is making him sick,” Alistair pauses, looking at Merlin’s left shoulder, “then perhaps he shouldn’t be with Harry.”

“This is our friend we are talking about, Ali. My _best_ friend.”

Alistair steps back from the sink, towels off his hands and mirrors Merlin’s closed off posture. He cocks his head. “Yes, it is _our_ friend who is a possessive, overbearing alcoholic with anger issues who is living with his lover, a man half his age who most likely has a skewed sense of what relationships should look like just from seeing his mother and stepfather interact, not to mention PTSD from an abusive childhood.” He leans forward into Merlin’s space. “They make a perfectly healthy couple don’t they?”

Merlin snorts but keeps his arms folded. “Harry has seemed, not better, perhaps, but more even with Eggsy. The lad takes zero of his shit, calling him on his penchant for hitting, _figuratively,_ for fuck’s sake, Ali, anything within arm’s each when he is mad, and leaving Harry to stew when Harry tells him to piss off instead go groveling at his feet. 

“I’m under no illusion as to who Harry is, but, I think, neither is Eggsy, and before you go painting him as some abused kid from a broken home, remember this is Gaheris we are talking about. The same Gaheris who has slaughtered six people and had a laugh on the comms with half the handlers present on the way home. This is the boy who threatened a woman who had designs on Harry. He’s no innocent.”

“You will seriously stand there and compare Eggsy threatening a coworker, as if he would have actually hurt her, and him doing his fucking job as an agent, and good for him if he can laugh about it, he might not need as much therapy as I do in ten years, to Harry. Harry who we know for a fact has emotionally manipulated previous lovers, who we know for a fact has followed and threatened people who those lovers were close to in order to keep said lovers where he wanted them. God only knows what we _don’t_ know about.

“I love Harry like a brother, but unlike a brother I will not be blind to his short comings. I have never seen him this gone over someone before. All of his previous lovers he wanted, and wanted to keep, but everyone involved knew there was an expiration date stamped somewhere. With Eggsy? He stares at the boy like a zealot faced with God. It’s romantic and bloody horrifying all at once.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course I… wait, you agree with me?”

Merlin closes the distance between them, tugging Alistair into his arms. “I agree that this bears watching, that Harry and Eggsy bear watching. And I also agree that if the relationship is making Eggsy sick it should end, though I am clueless as to how we would separate them if we had to. I’d have to send Eggsy on some year long diplomatic mission and I still think somehow they would find their way back to each other. Harry may stare at Eggsy like he is the second coming but I think for Eggsy, Harry might be air itself. You’re right, it’s terribly romantic and bloody horrifying.”

Merlin can feel the tension seep out of Alistair’s body and he leans into Merlin’s chest. “Jesus, I was more frightened of having that conversation than I was last week when I had that grenade tossed into my lap.”

“Oh, well I am glad one of us made it out of that with our bollocks outside of our body, mine crawled back inside from fright.”

“Facing down a grenade has nothing on telling the man you love that you think his best friend might be in an unhealthy, and possibly abusive, relationship.”

Merlin pulls back and looks into Alistair’s dark eyes. “You love me? That’s the first time you have said it.”

“Well, I figured the first part went so well, I might as well get the other terrifying thing out of the way.”

“You’re daft,” Merlin says as he leans down to kiss him.

—————

“God, I don’t care if this makes me sick all over again, it’s fucking worth it, yeah?” Eggsy says as he puts the last bite of Harry’s roast in his mouth. “Fucking hell you can cook, Harry.”

“Eggsy, I can make a passable roast and cook a few breakfast items, I hardly think that makes me a chef.”

“Never said you was a chef, I said you can cook. Breakfast and roasts are my favorite things, so good for you.”

“Tea?” Harry asks as he runs a hand through Eggsy’s hair.

“Ta, love. I’ll go get a movie ready unless you don’t want to watch one still.”

“Just nothing with superheroes, just for tonight?”

“Yeah, I'll pick one you like."

“Perfect, I’ll make the tea and bring it in.”

Eggsy heads into the living room feeling better than he has in weeks. He hasn’t been sick on over five days, which is a record for him since getting out of medical after his and Harry’s big fight. They have been working on keeping Eggsy’s stress level down, and they have been mostly able to solve any differences that have come up through adult conversation, a feat when one considers both of their tempers. 

Eggsy is digging through the movies when Harry comes in with the tea tray. Where Eggsy is from the fucking tea tray was the counter in the kitchen where you can fix your own fucking tea. Seeing Harry Hart, the once terror of baddies everywhere, fussing with a tea tray before he sits down and rests against his gran’s pillows never fails to make Eggsy laugh and horny as hell. For fucking why, he doesn’t know, but this is the most his dick has been interested in anything on a couple weeks so he’s going with it, toile and all. 

Once the movie gets going, Eggsy throws a blanket over them both and curls up next to Harry, his tea in hand. He has to admit, the movie is pretty fucking good, until the end, when the dust in the air makes his eyes water. Harry sniffles beside him.

“Allergies got you to, huh, bruv?”

“No, I was crying.”

Eggsy tosses the blanket to the floor and climbs into Harry’s lap. 

“Let me comfort you then,” he says, settling himself down, his thighs snug around Harry’s hips. Harry’s hands come around to squeeze his arse. 

“I am rather bereft. You probably should.”

“Damn right I should, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“A frightfully horrid one I am afraid.” 

Eggsy kisses him, gently, so gently, dragging his tongue against Harry’s until they are both rolling their hips with small movements.

Eggsy pulls back, resting his forehead against Harry’s, panting slightly. “You know, for maximum comforting, we should probably take this upstairs and get as much skin to skin contact as possible. I think I read that somewhere, some science thing.”

“You’re a genius, Eggsy. Does Merlin know?”

“You want to stop and give him a call?”

—————

Harry drags him up the stairs. Eggsy takes a quick shower to prepare for the festivities while Harry goes about making sure the lube isn’t empty (which fucked one night to hell since by the time Harry got back with some Eggsy had fallen asleep and Harry lacked the energy to wank), the heat is going to keep the room comfortable, and the curtains are open because Eggsy naked in the moonlight is something he cannot get enough of. 

Eggsy comes out of the en-suite, nude and running a towel over this hair. Harry is on the bed, stretched out, wearing nothing but his eye patch. 

“Looking good, Eggsy.”

“Bet you I feel even better,” he answers as he crawls over the bed to Harry. “Now downstairs I believe that we were right.. about… here…” he says as he brings their hips, and their erect cocks, back into the alignment. “Yes, this is it.”

They rock together, kissing sometimes, just breathing in each other’s breath the rest. Eggsy’s buries his hands in Harry’s hair while Harry’s hands knead desperately at Eggsy’s arse. Harry reaches over without looking to grab the lube, wetting the fingers of one hand before moving it back to Eggsy’s arse and pressing one against his hole which is relaxed from his shower. 

“Started without me?”

“Just making sure I was ready, wanted your cock in me yesterday.”

“You should have said something yesterday, I would have been more than happy to oblige.”

“Are you seriously making dad jokes when you are about to have your fingers in… _oh,_ ” Eggsy breathes out as Harry’s blunt, long finger breaches him. He rocks back on Harry’s hand. “Please, another.” A second one slips in, followed by a third almost too soon, but Eggsy revels in the burn, in the stretch, that soon goes from a little painful to all pleasure as Harry slowly opens him. 

“Fuck, Harry, love the way your hands feel on me, in me, yeah? I think about your fucking hands with those gorgeous fucking fingers all the time. You’ll be doing something all inno… _fucking hell_ …innocent like, like trying to make bread or some such shit, poking those fingers down into the dough and all I can think about is how much I want them poking into _me_.”

Harry bites Eggsy’s chest to distract himself from how hard he is. It’s been a few weeks since they could have sex so Harry wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt Eggsy and he wants to make sure it _lasts_. Eggsy is whimpering from the combined sensations of Harry’s fingers in him and his teeth on his skin.

“Fuck yeah, come on, mark me up, fucking own me.”

In the rational non-sex-crazed part of his brain Harry knows Eggsy doesn’t mean that literally. Well, the “mark me up” part certainly, Eggsy likes a bit of rough play when he has had to go without for too long, but not the “own me” part. But the rational part of him takes a back seat to the possessive fucker that he is, and Harry flips them, putting Eggsy down on his back on the mattress. Eggsy’s knees come up to his sides and his legs wrap around Harry’s back. Harry pushes Eggsy’s hands over his head, holding them with his free hand while he goes about fulfilling Eggsy’s request most thoroughly. They may both regret this part in the morning, but right now, when Harry looks down and sees his teeth marks bruising that lovely golden skin he feels nothing but pride and possessive joy. No one could look at the boy and not understand that he belongs to _Harry_. 

Harry bends down to give him a few more marks. When he grasps the skin of Eggsy’s shoulder between his teeth, Eggsy yells out _“Fucking hell,” and_ comes all over his stomach.

“Jesus,” Eggsy says, panting, eyes glazed.

Harry feels quite smug.

“Yes, yes, you’re the best lover and all that,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “Why don’t you get that cock in me. We can see if you’re good enough to make me come again.”

Harry kisses him before he kneels up so he can line up and push in. “I believe that you are attempting to appeal to my pride just so you,” he groans as he sinks into the dark heat of Eggsy’s arse, “can come again. My god, Eggsy, every time you are just exquisite. What a gift you are.”

Eggsy blushes prettily and winks. “Is appealing to your pride working?”

“You better fucking believe it,” Harry answers as he starts dicking into him slow, but deep, making Eggsy’s eyes roll back. Harry builds the pace up incrementally, backing off every single time he feels like he is getting close to coming. Eggsy has set a challenge and he means to meet it. 

By the time Harry is pounding into Eggsy hard enough to rattle the bed, Eggsy is fully hard and he is rocking his hips up to meet Harry’s thrusts. 

“Yeah, babe, just like that, almost there, fuck your cock is so fucking good…oh… oh…” Eggsy’s arches off the bed, his head thrown back and the tendons of his neck standing out as he comes a second time. It’s not as messy as the first, but from what Harry can feel as Eggsy clenches down on Harry’s cock, it’s intense. Harry grits his teeth and thinks of Chester King to keep himself from coming at the sight of Eggsy so lost to pleasure. 

As soon as Eggsy falls back to the bed, Harry surges forward, grabbing his hands once more and pressing them to the bed. From this position he rails into Eggsy, ignoring the whimpers of what must be overstimulation. When Harry comes, he bites down hard enough on Eggsy’s neck, in the same spot as earlier, to make him cry out in pain and Harry thinks he might have just saw God. 

Eggsy rubs his cheek against Harry’s hair as they both come down form their respective highs. Harry fetches a cloth to clean them up with once he is able to walk and then settles them both into bed.

“Fucking hell babe, that was amazing. I’ve been around the block, but I ain’t never had sex like I have with you. Fucking planets move and all that shit you read about in books.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Harry says, holding Eggsy close, “no one has ever even come close to you.”

—————

A few miles away, Merlin lies in bed, sticky despite a hasty clean up, with a fucked out Alistair drooling on his chest. It’s still early enough in the relationship that he can find that adorable instead of disgusting.

Give it a few more weeks.

Months.

Fuck it, he’s loved Alistair for close to twenty years. It will probably never stop being adorable.

While he is lying there slightly damp with sweat, residual come that the flannel didn’t catch, and drool from the love of his life’s mouth, he thinks about Harry, and Eggsy, and how he feels like there is something very important that he is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, dropping some kudos, and commenting. You guys are the best :)


	8. Chapter 8

Eggsy is ecstatic. He is air and light and happiness and he is going to annihilate this arsehole that he is chasing. He’s running, wind in his hair, thigh muscles burning from exertion, bespoke suit moving like it is a second skin, which by now it is. Harry is in his ear, barking directions, incoming counts, coordinating with Merlin who is handling Percival, his partner on this mission, and Roxy, who is their extraction. All five of them are working like the most intricate, well oiled machine and Eggsy thinks if he could stand still long enough he would probably have a hard on from how fucking good this feels.

For the first time in six months he feels like himself, he feels like a goddamn Kingsman, and he is out saving the goddamn world with the people that matter most to him. 

And he knows what he gets if he saves the world, yeah?

“Eggsy, Mr. Botham had countermeasures built into the case he is carrying. Scans show unless he is the one to open it it will incinerate itself and the plans inside of it. We need those plans to be able to dismantle the device,” Harry says in his ear.

“Guess he was taking a page out of Valentine’s book,” Eggsy answers, breathing heavy from running, “paper can’t be hacked, yeah? Any ideas on how to make him open the case? The way I see it, we kill him, we can’t open the case and the dirty bomb goes off in the middle of Piccadilly. We don’t kill him, he doesn’t open the case, the bomb still goes off in the middle of Piccadilly.”

“Cut off his toes?”

“He’s a racial purity zealot, Ryence, I hardly think cutting off a few toes will make him sing,” Percival chimes in. 

"Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. In my previous life I had to help Dean knuckle down some people that weren’t living up to their end of the bargain. I’m sure one of… _Holy fuck_!"

“Gaheris?” Four voices yell at once into his ear before his glasses go flying from his face. While Eggsy was busying figuring out how to get the case open, Botham had doubled back behind Eggsy and swung what felt like a fucking barge pole into the backs of Eggsy’s knees. Pain lances up his previously broken leg and he pitched forward. 

If this fuck had single handedly put him out on medical leave again he is going to hurt him so thoroughly that his grandchildren will be crying from it, swear the fuck down.

“Stay down,” Botham says from his left, he can see the man’s leg from the corner of his eye, “I have no desire to hurt you. You are a fine example of our race. You could join me, be a leader, help us sire many children for the cause. 

Eggsy pushes up with his hands and kicks out catching the man’s knee. Unlike Eggsy’s, his makes a sickening sound and Botham goes down, holding it and screaming. Fucking prick. 

Eggsy stands up, testing his weight on his leg. It’s painful, but nothing is broken. He limps over to where his glasses are lying on the ground and picks them up just as Percival arrives. 

“Ah, I see you have this well in hand. We worried.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine, just a little roughed up.” He rolls his eyes. “Fuck, stop your yelling,” he says to Botham, “you didn’t hear me crying like a fucking baby when you tried to kneecap me. Fucking hell, I’ve seen kids with more bollocks than you.” 

Eggsy picks up the case and brings it over to where Botham is laying on the ground. Percival stands above him, on point, gun drawn and pointed at Botham, his eyes scanning the area and Botham in a quick loop. 

Eggsy kneels down, ignoring the slight twinge in his leg as he does so, and sets the case in front of him. 

“I’ll ask nicely, just this once, that you open the case for me.”

“I won't, that bomb is going to go off if I have to die to ensure it. People must see that time for racial cleansing is here. We have allowed the unclean races a place at our table for too long, they have tainted us, dirtied our mouths with th...” Botham’s head rocks to the side when Eggsy’s fist connects with it. 

“Quiet unless you are going to tell me something useful. Now, we don’t have much time. Usually I would start slow, really work up to the painful parts, give you a chance to talk before I do something that might not be able to be repaired, but since we can’t move or disarm the bomb without those plans, we need them very quickly, so we are just going to get right down to it then, alright?” Above him Percival is watching the exchange with shrewd eyes.

“I am not frightened of death.”

“Mr. Botham, you wound me. I know you’re not frightened of death that’s why I’m not threatening to kill you. I doubt an arsehole like yourself has anyone in his life I can threaten to kill to get you to talk. No, everything I am going to do to you will cause a staggering amount of pain, and in most instances, permanent disfigurement, but it will be almost impossible to die from, even when done in conjunction.”

“I don’t believe it, you are a gentleman, and certainly you have a code of ethics you live by.”

He smiles, teeth glinting, too many showing. “Just because I wear a posh fucking suit doesn’t mean I’m a gentleman, bruv,” he says, dropping the accent, but not the smile. “I was raised where hurting people was a job you learned quick before you were the one getting hurt. Keep that in mind every time I ask you to open the case, yeah?”

Botham opens the case but not before he is missing some of his tongue, strips of skin from his body, and the fingers from his left hand. Eggsy wipes his hands off with a handkerchief that does fuckall but move the blood around, while Percival relays the information to Bors, their resident bomb expert, even if he prefers to be setting them rather than disarming them. 

Together they drag Botham to the extraction point, “Few of my friends want to talk to you some more. Surely you will be as friendly to them as you have been to me, right mate?”

Once back at the manor, after allowing Gipson to give his leg a quick pat down to make sure nothing was wrong it with it, just some bruising thank fucking Christ, he heads to his room at the manor to get out of the disgusting suit and change into something that does not make his skin crawl. Shit, right now _he_ makes his own skin crawl. 

He is just stepping out of the shower when Harry barges in, heading straight for him.

“Harry? What the fuck, bruv.”

“Do not call me that, Eggsy.” His eyes track up Eggsy’s body, nude and still slightly damp before he reaches for him, pulling him in so that he is pressed up against Harry from toes to tits. 

Harry buries one hand in his hair, tilting his head at an angle before kissing him. “You were magnificent out there, darling,” he says when he pulls back and looks into Eggsy’s eyes. “You saved all those people and still left enough of that piece of trash for us to interrogate.”

Harry’s erection is pressing into his hip and Eggsy could not be more on board with this turn of events than he already is. He was thinking he should go see Viviane, but allowing Harry to bend him over the sink and give him a good seeing to sounds loads better. Besides, she’ll still be there when they finish.

Harry’s hand drops from his hair to in between them to pull Eggsy off, while he pulls a small packet of lube out of his pocket. 

“I had planned on rewarding you for coming home with no injuries with a lovely blowjob and a couple of fingers in your arse, but your performance today deserves nothing but my best, wouldn’t you agree darling?”

“Yeah,” Eggsy answers in a daze as he thrusts into Harry’s hand, “defo.”

“Full words, Eggsy, but I will let it slide this time, you're distracted.”

Harry flips him around so he is braced against the sink, Harry behind him, with his fingers now buried in his arse. Eggsy is rocking back, back, back, trying to hurry the process up because holy fuck he might die if Harry doesn’t stuff him full in the next five seconds.

“Come on Harry, get in me, already.”

“As you wish, dear.”

Harry fucks into him quickly and that is exactly how Eggsy wants it, hard and fast, no room for thought, just a sprint to the finish, nothing but sensation. Harry grabs his hair and brings his head up until they lock eyes in the mirror. 

“Watch yourself, Eggsy. See how beautiful you are when you let yourself belong to me, when you give yourself over to it. See what I see, all the different sides, even the ones people think are frightening. I love them all.”

The bottles on the sink tumble to the floor with the force of Harry’s thrusts. Eggsy keeps his eyes locked on the mirror, watching Harry, watching himself. He moans high and loud before he comes all over the porcelain. Harry slams home once more and follows him. 

As they stand there getting their breath back, Merlin’s voice comes over the computer in the bedroom. 

“If you two are quite done terrorizing the staff in that wing, Eggsy was supposed to be having a debrief with Arthur ten minutes ago.” Harry slips out and he can feel come drip down the back of his thigh.

Rank.

—————

“Um, Harry, we need to talk about something,” Eggsy says his eyes downcast and his hand rubbing the nape of his neck. Harry knows whatever comes of out Eggsy’s mouth next is definitely not going to be good. His heart skips a beat and and his chest hurts and his palms are clammy and he thinks he might be having a heart attack. Eggsy is leaving him. He has realized that being with a one-eyed man in his mid-fifties who needs a cane half the time and cock pills the other is a bit rubbish and he’s met some lovely young man, perhaps the new Sagamore, a stunning man in his mid-thirties of Middle Eastern descent that even Harry has to admit to fantasizing about despite the fact that he has Eggsy to come home to at night. 

Sagamore is so fucking good looking that there is actual lottery to see who gets to handle his first honeypot. 

Harry’s name is in it. He may be committed and missing an eye but he is not blind. 

He pictures Eggsy and Abbud together. A half stiff cock and a heart attack. Lovely.

Harry carefully sits down and folds his hands strategically in his lap. He braces himself. “Go on.”

Eggsy sits in the chair opposite from him. 

“Tilde has to travel to Germany for some royal function or some such shit, and has requested Kingsman’s help with the arrangements. Someone over there doesn’t like the discussions their government has been having with Sweden and has made a few thinly veiled threats.”

Ah, worse than he was expecting then. 

“Crown Princess Tilde.”

“Yes.”

“The lovely royal whose arse you fucked on V-Day.”

Eggsy’s mouth drops open. “Christ. Yes.”

“And she is what, expecting a repeat performance?”

“God, Harry, could you be less of a jealous git? No. She has asked that I be part of her personal security detail.”

“Oh, to be sure,” Harry answers looking nonplussed. Eggsy stands up and runs his fingers through his hair, the white t-shirt he is in, Harry’s to be exact, stretches across his chest and his pajama pants, Harry’s again, pool around his feet. Any other time Harry would use the half an erection he is still sporting for something useful. Right now though, all he can see when he looks at Eggsy is the view of his cock buried in Her Highness’s arse that he saw through Eggsy’s feed. 

Hocus-cadabra, erection gone. 

“Is a reason she can’t use her own guards? Surely as a princess she has her own, yes?”

“Some of the threats suggest that whoever wants her out of the way has someone on the inside, so she asked for me.”

“I’m sure she did, why wouldn’t she?”

“You can’t be serious about this, worrying about me and Tilde.”

“You do share a history. Victory anal sex, _sexting_ or whatever it’s called, and that’s just what I know about.”

“Yeah, I know for a fact that up until recently you were fucking Viviane…”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ain’t got to beg me for shit. You think her screaming your goddamn name might have clued some people into the fact that your cock was in her, bruv? But you don’t see me giving you, or _her_ , the stink eye when you say hello to her in the hall.”

“Saying hello to a colleague, even if they are a past sexual partner, is polite. You being part of Tilde’s _personal_ retinue is different.”

“The only thing I see is different it that was my cock getting wet this time instead of yours.”

“Perhaps you’re looking to ‘get it wet’ once again, after all, with me you’re usually the bottom. Perhaps I should roll over for you more often.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Most of the time this whole possessive, jealous arsehole thing you have going on doesn’t bother me. That and your little tantrums are parts of you I decide to deal with, and when they are too fucking annoying I let you know. Well consider this me ‘letting you know.’ And trust me, if I was really concerned about getting my cock up someone, I wouldn’t have to wait until Tilde came to town, I have more than enough offers as it is.”

“I do not want you doing this Eggsy.” Harry says, standing and looming over Eggsy. 

“I wasn’t asking your permission to do it, I was informing you of it. If you can’t handle it I will find someone else to run my comms.”

“And this is occurring when?”

“Next week.”

“How fortuitous, just in time for me to take a vacation.”

“God, you’re such a fucking prick. You don’t own me, Harry. I’m not a pretty statue you get to feel up and pat my head and trot me out to make other old men jealous. I am a fucking Kingsman agent, the agent _you_ made me. And yeah, before you came along I fucked some people. Hell, I got drunk one night a year or so before you dropped out of the sky, and had a threesome with Ryan and Jamal. You want to make sure I don’t talk to them now too? Roxy and I had mess about for a mission. Didn’t fuck but we would've had it come to that. You gonna keep me away from her?

“You either trust me or you don’t. I am going to be around people I fucked. You're going to have to deal with it, like _I_ deal with it for you, or you can fucking let me go. Your choice, bruv.”

“I guess that gives me something to think about while vacation then, doesn’t it?”

Eggsy pales and rocks back on his heels like Harry has just struck him. “Wow,” is all he says before he goes upstairs. 

When Harry comes to bed, it’s empty. A large majority of Eggsy’s clothes are not in the wardrobe and the guest door is locked. Harry pulls the flask he keeps in his night stand out and turns off the light. 

—————

Eggsy doesn’t have to force a smile when he sees Tilde waiting for him in the hangar.

“Your Highness,” he says, bowing.

“Whatever,” Tilde says, waving one of her small hands, “I am Tilde for the rest of the time you are here, we are far past formalities, yes?” She pulls him into a hug. “I have missed you, Eggsy Unwin. 

Eggsy looks behind her to see her bodyguard looking scandalized before he schools his face into indifference. 

“Are you still seeing your boyfriend?” She asks, eyes twinkling as they begin to walk.

“Yes,” Eggsy says without thinking, “well, I suppose I am.”

“That is too bad, we would have had a much more pleasurable visit. Instead I will have to keep contenting myself with the gardener.”

Tilde’s bodyguard actually stops walking and looks at her with horror. “Princess,” he says when he recovers himself, “perhaps we should allow Mr. Unwin to refresh himself back at the palace.”

“Yes, yes.”

Eggsy offers his arm to Tilde, who takes it. “Now, on the way, you will tell me all about why your face was sad when I mentioned Harry.”

They are spending the night at the palace before they leave for Germany in the morning. It is late when he makes it back to his room. Tilde had kept him in her rooms, further offending her bodyguard, so he could gossip with her and help her match nail polishes to the eighty million outfits she is taking with her. Eggsy just thinks she is lonely, which is fine, because he is too.

He picks up his phone and dials Harry.

“Hello,” Harry answers. 

“Hey babe, I kind of expected you not to pick up,” Eggsy says, sitting down heavily on the most opulent bed he has ever laid eyes on. _Was this fucking pearls sewn into the duvet? What is wrong with the posh?_

“Ah, Eggsy. Made it to Sweden then?”

“Yeah, we leave for Germany tomorrow.”

“Good travels then. I am sure you and Tilde will have a lovely time.”

“Is this it for us then?” Eggsy clears his throat when his voice breaks. “We just going throw this away on something that isn’t even happening?” Eggsy tries to clear his throat again but starts crying instead. “Will I come home, _fucking hell_ , to my things in the manor?” Eggsy sobs, trying the muffle the sound by pressing his fist into his mouth. 

Harry sighs. “Maybe it is for the best,” he says, his own voice thick. “Maybe you _should_ be with someone like Tilde, or even Roxanne, not an old man like myself. They would be better for you than I. It seems like all I do is make you angry, or hurt you. I am who I am Eggsy, after almost sixty years, the chances of me changing are very, very small. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better, I just want you. You’re all I have wanted since The Black Prince. I don’t know who I am without you next to me. Please Harry, please don’t make me leave you. I'm begging you. I ain’t never going to find someone like you ever again.”

“I don’t know if we are working, Eggsy, not like we should.”

Eggsy reaches up, pulling his tie off. It’s fucking hot in here. Too fucking hot. He can’t breathe with this fucking suit on. 

“Eggsy?” Harry asks over the phone. His voice sounds muffled like he is speaking through cotton. 

It’s too fucking hot. How can anyone breathe like this?

Eggsy is panting and his skin is alternating between ice cold and boiling hot, like a strobe light flashing. He is sweating. His hands shake. 

Panic attack.

“Har - Harry,” he gets out, “I got… to go.” He hangs up and drops the phone to the floor where it immediately lights up and vibrating. He stumbles to the en-suite, black spots in his vision, and his breathing becoming increasingly labored. His head swims. 

His glasses flare to life in front of his eyes, the flash of light scaring the bejesus out of him. 

“Eggsy, lad, you alright?” Merlin asks. “Harry called and sounded frantic, and your vitals are all over the place.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” is all he can get off before he throws his glasses down as well.

He has had enough of these, following Dean, following missions, following nightmares from missions and Dean, that he knows that cold water will pull him out. He gets through the door as a wave of dizziness hits him, taking him to his knees. He stands up again. The sink is two steps away. He reaches…

He wakes. He has no idea where he is so he keeps his breathing even, feigning sleep. He categorizes his body. Nothing seems to be holding him down, although there is the warmth of a hand on his to his left. He smells tea and he is lying on a comfortable bed. Most likely not taken hostage then. He tries to remember what he was doing before this. Tilde. The fight with Harry. Right, a fucking bitch of a panic attack. The first one he has had since after V-Day when it hit him how many people he had just killed when he asked Merlin to flip that switch for the implants. 

The room is dim, light barely seeping through when he cracks his eyes open. His head is _throbbing_ , seeming to center from his left temple. He reaches up and touches it, immediately hissing and pulling away when he finds the area tender and swollen. 

“Eggsy,” he hears Harry say and the warmth disappears from his hand. _Harry?_

He finishes opening his eyes. Harry is sitting next to him, deep navy suit and hair immaculate, looking down at him with tired and sad eyes. He pours him some water out of a pitcher next to the bed and hands it to him. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Eggsy asks, confused. 

“I flew here, what on earth did you expect me to do? You hang up on me with no explanation, while you are in the middle of a panic attack, will not answer when I call you back, and then Merlin sees you knock yourself unconscious through the glasses you also would not answer. Thank God he could get the Princess to break into the room. You hit your head hard and were bleeding.”

Everything that has happened in the past few days between him and Harry comes rushing back and Eggsy feels a familiar tightening in his chest all over again. He breathes in and out through his nose once and moves into a sitting position against the headboard. 

He looks down, confused. “Why the fuck am I only wearing my pants?”

“Because you got blood all over your jacket and shirt, and we wanted you to rest comfortably.”

“Who undressed me?”

Harry’s hand convulses into a fist on his leg. “Princess Tilde.”

“Oh.”

“Quite.”

“Well you didn’t have to come all this way, Harry, wouldn’t want to mess up your vacation plans and all.”

“Now is neither the time nor the place for this. I am not going anywhere. We were unsure of how we would find you, and Princess Tilde…”

“You need to call her Tilde, she hates all that fucking Princess this and that shite.”

 “…needed a Kingsman by her side for her trip. Every other agent is busy so I came as backup. And I am not nearly _familiar_ enough with her to call her ‘Tilde.’”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. He fucking loves Harry, he does so fucking much that the thought of not being with him makes him makes him a little nuts, but this shit is getting really fucking old, really fucking fast.

“I’m fine, you can go back to your vacation so’s you can figure out whatever the fuck you need to figure out.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up.”

Eggsy huffs, scoots to edge of the bed, and stands. Immediately he gets woozy and has to sit back down.

“Princess Tilde’s personal physician said that you most likely have a minor concussion, and that you should be fine in a couple of days. Meanwhile, Princess Tilde needs a Kingsman, therefore I am staying for the mission. I believe Merlin said it should be about a week. He, Isolde, and Evaine will run our comms.”

“Sweet Jesus, are you going to loom about giving Tilde the flinty side eye every time she breathes in my direction?”

“Should I?”

“No, you fucking shouldn’t. You should go home and get your shit together so’s I can do the same for mine.”

“Are we going to do this here? Under Princess Tilde’s roof?”

“Had no fucking problem doing it over the phone, or can you not dump me now that you got to look at me to do it?”

“I wasn’t ‘dumping’ you Eggsy.”

“Sure sounded that way to me.”

Harry comes up to him and offers him his arm. “If you will indulge me.” 

“Is there a robe or something? I don’t fancy this conversation in my pants.” 

Harry looks around but doesn’t find one, so he goes to Eggsy’s luggage, finds a t-shirt and pajamas, and helps him into them. He offers his arm again and Eggsy takes it. 

Harry walks them over to couch that is in Eggsy’s room. 

“Let’s get it over with then,” Eggsy says when they sit down, his arms crossed. 

“I wasn’t planning on dumping you, but surely you can see that I had some valid points.”

“What about you being old and all that shit, me needing someone young, you ain’t changing, etc, bullshit, etc?”

“In so many words.”

“Well, we’ve already discussed your age, so fuck that. Already discussed you not changing to which I said I don’t expect you to change, I expect you to try, and if you can’t try to be less of an arsehole, Harry, you got more fucking problems than a young boyfriend. Look, you love me, yeah?”

“Yes.” 

“And I love you, and that’s all that matters.”

“But…”

“But nothing. Although you got to come off it with Tilde. She’s my mate and I love her like a mate, not like I love you. You can’t be jealous of every single person who looks at me. Half the time it’s somewhat cute, the other half it just makes me want to beat the fuck out of you with your own cane. I ain’t stepping out, Harry, I never would.”

“And those others you have waiting in the wings, the faceless masses waiting for you to reach out your hand?”

“They ain’t you,” Eggsy says, “and that’s all that matters. Now can I lay down? My head feels like my eyes might fall out of it.”

—————

Eggsy wakes the next morning to Harry pulling him out of bed and pushing him into the shower. 

“Move your arse, darling, we take off in an hour and Princess Tilde doesn’t want to be kept waiting.”

“Tilde, just Tilde,” Eggsy grumbles, scratching his bollocks and yawning. 

“Of course,” Harry answers, stripping the clothes from his as they walk. 

“There had better be some tea ready for me…” he splutters as Harry finally pushes him into the shower, hot water pelting him in the face. He fucking hates showers first thing in the goddamn morning. It’s un-fucking-civilized to be naked with hot water peppering you in the face before you get a good piss and cuppa in you. 

“Princess Tilde has informed me that we will fly directly into Berlin and taking a motorcade from there to our accommodations.”

“You going to be able to be in the same car with her, bruv?”

“I am a gentleman, I have sat next to child murders and been congenial. I think I can make it next to a woman you fucked, Eggsy. Besides, I am,” Eggsy can hear the grinding of his teeth all the way in the shower, “dealing with it.”

“Harry, look at you, my boy growing up and all, learning how to be a fucking adult. I’m so proud.”

“Oops. There went your tea all over the floor. So sorry, old chap.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Harry,” Eggsy says, definitely _not_ whining at the thought of no tea.

“Eggsy,” Harry deadpans.

Eggsy hurries to dry himself off and dashes out of the loo to see Harry sitting down, dressed in a black and grey pinstripe wool and cashmere blend suit. He’s holding a cup of tea. “Fucking hell. You look fit as fuck,” he says as he takes the tea, not even trying to hide the fact his cock is way more interested in Harry than he even is in the tea.

Harry smiles as he slowly looks Eggsy over. “As do you, dear, but we don’t have time to do anything about it, the Princess is waiting for us.”

Eggsy knocks back his tea in one gulp. “I’ll taste some on the plane, yeah?” he says when Harry looks at him in horror. He quickly pulls together Eggsy the Kingsman agent. Hair styled perfectly, signet ring gleaming, suit pressed within an inch of its life. As a nod to Harry’s suit choice, Eggsy is wearing a light grey suit, the same color as the subtle stripe in Harry’s. Sharp as fuck, he is. He shoots his cuffs as he stands in the mirror. Harry comes up behind him and their eyes lock, both of them remembering the last time they stood like this in front of a mirror.

“Perhaps I should take you in front of a mirror again, you seemed to like that,” Harry says, lightly dragging his nose up Eggsy’s neck, smelling his cologne. “Or maybe, you should take _me_ , hmm?”

“Keep it up and Tilde is going to have to …”

Eggsy slumps back against Harry, who catches him.

“Darling?” Harry asks, his voice worried.

“Nah, I’m good. Just got a little dizzy there for a mo.’ Probably from knocking my head on that sink, yeah?” 

Harry turns him around and peers into his eyes. “I think we should have Dr. Karlsson check you over just to be sure.”

“I’m fine, swear down. If I am still wonky after we get home I’ll let Gipson poke my head around.”

“Eggsy, you are on a mission, you need to be in top form.”

“I am, and I have you here. What could go wrong?”

Turns out _everything_. 

As soon as he gets on the plane he is dizzy again, so much so he needs to lie down. His muscles feel weak and he thinks he would take out Tilde himself if someone promised him eight more hours of uninterrupted sleep. Harry fusses over him, of course, relaying his symptoms over the comms to Gipson, who assures him it's most likely from the knock to the head.

“Told you, Harry. I just need to sleep it off and I’ll be as good as new.”

Harry looks doubtful, frowning down at Eggsy from where he is sitting on the edge of the bed, his fingers in Eggsy’s hair.

“I’d feel better if we were going home so you could have a MRI.”

“Well, we ain’t so you are just going to have to deal with it. I’ll be fine, Harry, swear down.”

“I’ll sit with you while you rest.”

“No, you will go out there and talk to Tilde. Good practice for you getting over yourself. Besides, she’s rich, yeah? Kingsman can always use some new donors.”

“The lad has a point, Harry. Offer to stick _your_ geriatric cock in her if it gets us a new income stream,” Merlin says over both pairs of glasses.

Eggsy laughs, and Harry looks affronted. “She could be my daughter.”

“She’s older than me, bruv, so what does that make us?”

“Perverse,” Merlin answers. "Gaheris get some rest. Ryence, go kiss some arse. I’ll chime back in when you land.”

It seems like moments later Harry is gently waking him up. “We’ve landed, darling.”

Eggsy stands up slowly, just to make sure he ain’t going to go crashing back down on his arse, and shakes out his arms and legs. 

“Ah, much better. See, just needed a little extra sleep. You should feel terrible for putting me through that, panic attacks, concussion, just because you’re an arsehole.”

“Yes, Eggsy, thank you, I do.”

“Good. I expect it to be made up to me properly when we get back?”

“In what way?”

“Filthy shagging.”

“Christ, do you two ever stop?”

“ _Eavesdroppers rarely hear anything they like_ , isn’t that what you always say, Merlin?”

“It’s not eavesdropping when I am coming online for a mission, Ryence.”

“I can't figure out how Percival puts up with you,” Eggsy says, giving Harry a peck on the jaw. “Now, fill us in, yeah?”

“Princess Tilde, and no, _I_ am not calling her Tilde either, Gaheris, has four engagements over the next two days. Two of them will be easy, they will both be at the villa you are staying at. Those will be tomorrow, one at ten in the morning, and three in the afternoon. Various heads of state will come in to pay their respects and to discuss the trade negotiations they are adding to the existing ones.”

“Trade? Someone has it out for Til because of _trade_?”

Harry gapes at him. “You did not just call the Crown Princess of Sweden ’ _Til_.’”

“I did. I’ve called her worse.”

Harry sits down, his hand held against his heart. “I don’t know where I failed in your training, Gaheris, but I need to apologize to _Princess_ Tilde.”

“Aw, stuff it. _Anyway_ , please continue, Merlin.”

“Trade is money, Gaheris, and money is a very powerful motivator.  The second day both engagements will be in public. The Berlin chapter is taking care of the perimeter but the Princess has reiterated that you two are the only ones she will let next to her until the threat is contained.”

“Understood.”

“How are you feeling, Gaheris? Can you complete your mission?”

“Jesus, I am _fine_. See?” He hops up and down, shaking his head and then balances perfectly on one foot. “I just needed sleep. Fuck, you two are worse than having two grans. At least my real gran gave me fucking cookies now and then. You two give me nothing but headaches.”

“I’ll remember that next time you’re humping my leg like the ill-mannered pup you are.”

“Whatever,” Eggsy replies without any anger. “You love it.”

“Bloody great buggering fuck. Will you two stay _on the fucking mission already_? God, I hate you both.”

“Are you two fucking?” Tilde’s voice calls from the front of the plane.

“No, Til.”

“Goddamn it.” Tilde enters the small back area and Harry nears snaps his spine coming to proper attention or some such shit. Eggsy barely looks up. “I was hoping to peek. Anyway, if you will not give me a free show, we should head to the Villa. At least there I have asked for cameras in each room.”

“Can I get a copy later?”

“Of course, Eggsy. We are friends, it is what we do.”

Eggsy cuts his eyes over to Harry and he has happily surprised to see the man looking pretty at ease. Perhaps he is going to turn over a new leaf. 

“Come though, I am ready to settle in and eat dinner. Gustav assures me that the cooks have been preparing some special for our first night here, and it will probably be the last time I can be just Tilde,” she gives Harry, and his glasses, a pointed look, “until we are back on the plane. Let’s enjoy it, yes?”

“Yes,” Eggsy agrees, grabbing his and Harry’s luggage while Harry offers Tilde his arm. Gustav and the rest of the small staff that came with them follow behind, Gustav glaring a hole in his back as usual. The man hates him, mostly because he has probably heard, or seen, some of their video chats. 

—————

“I’m heading up to bed,” Eggsy says, bending to kiss Harry. “Don’t be too long, yeah?”

“I won’t. I just want to go over tomorrow one more time with the Princess.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes. 

Harry watches Eggsy go up the stairs, his eyes looking for any hint of imbalance. He didn’t think he would see any, he was right. He turns to see Tilde watching _him_.

“I think this is where I make vague threats regarding you and your ability to hurt someone we both care for?”

“You could, but we both know what, _who_ , I am.”

She waves her hand in a dismissive gesture and laughs. Despite himself, Harry laughs as well. 

“Yes, a _Kingsman_. And I am a Princess, a future Queen, so do not flatter yourself by thinking that I am any less dangerous because _I_ do not hold the gun.”

He tips his head in acknowledgment. “I will no longer.” And he won’t because he sees steel in her eyes. She is gracious, beautiful, and around Eggsy, playful, but Harry, now that he looks, can see that she is no one to be trifled with. She was raised from birth to be a queen, and she has the backbone to make the hard decisions, the unsavory ones, the ones that will cost her sleep. He now has a small measure of admiration for her, one he looks forward to seeing grow.

“You must understand, Harry, if I may call you that.”

“Of course, your Highness.”

“Tilde, consider that a royal command.” Harry inclines his head at her as she goes on. “Eggsy and I have a history, yes, but he loves you and I would never try to disrupt that. I can also see the way you love him, even if you are…” Tilde searches for a diplomatic word, “heavy handed with it times, something I advise you to stop doing before it drives him away. Don’t snarl at me when you know it is truth. But you care for him very well, and he needs it if what I have heard has been true, he has been sick over much, and now the dizziness?”

“He has been sick, and while I can’t say that it is more than usual, his friends who have known him since he was a child are alarmed over it, which alarms me.”

“And the doctors?”

“Not a clue. They can find no cause of his sickness so they think it is stress.”

“Bah, stress. Their answer for everything. I don’t know if you and I will ever be friends, Harry, but we can at least be friendly for the sake of the man we both care for?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Good, that is good. It will make Eggsy happy to know that the people he loves are being friendly.”

“And that is what matters.”

“Yes, where that man is concerned, that is what matters. He is good in a way most of us only pretend to be, in a way we wish we could remember how to be.”

Harry goes up later, after a truly diverting discussion regarding American politics and the frightful state they are in with Tilde, to find Eggsy lying in bed, nude and warm. Harry promptly strips, barely taking the care to hang his suit, and crawls in next to him. 

Everything is _exactly_ as he wants it. 

—————

By the last function Tilde has to attend, Eggsy’s nerves are shot. _Nothing_ has happened. No one out of the ordinary sniffing around. Berlin reported no unusual activity on the perimeter, and both public appearances have gone like clockwork. Eggsy has been running on a simultaneous adrenaline high and crash for the past twenty four hours from getting himself in hyper alert mode only to stand there and listen to Tilde talk about a bunch of shit he doesn’t care about. 

Harry and Eggsy have been standing behind Tilde’s chair with her absolute fuck of a bodyguard for close to six hours now, while the rest of her men are stationed at each of the room’s entry points. Eggsy feels a brush of air as Harry leaves and then comes back a few moments later handing him a to go cup of tea. 

“Cheers, love,” Eggsy says, “my tongue was about as dry as his,” Eggsy nods towards the German President, “scalp.” He sips his tea so he doesn’t laugh at Harry suppressing a shudder.

“That is horrid.”

“At least we aren’t the one sitting next to him. I don't know how Til hasn’t crawled over the back of her chair.”

“The poise of a Queen, Eggsy, it cannot be faked.”

“Listen, just because you and her made all nice doesn’t mean you have to give her moon eyes every time you mention her,” Eggsy replies, not nearly mad. 

“You wanted this, darling, allow me to worship her from afar.”

“Gaheris, take a couple steps to your left before all the shite that Ryence is spouting gets all over your oxfords.”

“Ah, Merlin, any news from Berlin? An assassin? A sniper? A stray cat with designs on the abominable luncheon leftovers?” Harry asks.

“Not even a wayward bird, unfortunately. It seems as if the people who were planning to go after the Princess changed their mind. Your flight will leave Germany in two hours and you should be back to the manor, after seeing Princess Tilde to the palace, by midnight. I’ll have the staff ready Gaheris’ room for you both since Arthur will want a debrief from you before you two go home for your forty-eight hours off.”

“Thanks, Merlin. See you soon,” Eggsy says.

Tilde rises with the President, shaking his hand and smiling for the photographers. Eggsy offers a small prayer of thanks that this farce is over with. Having time to catch up with Tilde had been fucking aces, and getting Harry to play nice was the best bonus ever, even if it required him knocking himself for six and having a rather embarrassing panic attack, but almost four days of doing _nothing_ has him climbing the metaphoric walls.

They move so they are behind Tilde, her bodyguard to the side, as she walks the President out. Once the door shuts she turns to them.

“Thank fucking God that is over with. I need ten showers. His breath was like death. I apologize that you had to come all of this way for nothing,” she says as she starts back towards them, “since the cowards never showed their faces.”

“Pardon my intrusion, Princess,” Gustav says from his place next to her, “but that is where you are wrong.” His wraps his hand into her hair, using it to throw her to the ground, coming down with his knee in her back and a gun to the base of her skull.

Harry and Eggsy immediately draw their weapons and begin to slowly widen their placement around Gustav and Tilde. Eggsy watches in horror as blood beings to pool on the floor under Tilde’s head and he prays it is just from a broken nose and not something more serious.

“Do not move one more inch, either of you,” Gustav says, “or I will put a bullet in the back of her skull. Push your guns over to me.” 

Eggsy and Harry look at each other quickly. Gustav presses harder on Tilde’s neck. They put their guns on the floor and push them to Gustav. The man is fucking dumb as dirt if he thinks those are the only ones they have.

Eggsy hopes he is dumb as dirt at least.

“Keep him talking and not shooting.” Merlin says over the glasses.

“Motherfucker,” Tilde’s voice says, muffled and thick. “What the fuck is this, Gustav?”

“I am sick of watching you whore about the palace, fucking anyone you please, putting on sex shows for people like him,” he tilts his head at Eggsy even though she can’t see it. “Perhaps you even fucked them both while they have been here. You are an embarrassment to the country.”

“I am the Crown Princess of Sweden, I do what I choose and you do as you are fucking told. Let me up.”

“I will not. You will not be going back to Sweden, Princess, nor will I, and I am sorry to say your friends will not be returning home either.”

“What does who she is fucking have to do with fucking Germany, mate? You’re going to have to explain it to me really fucking slow.”

“That is because you are stupid. You put your grubby hands on the Princess and since then she has been _a whore_. She was perfect before you. But it is done, the next in line for the throne is pure like she used to be. She is biddable, and knows her place, as a proper Queen should.”

“Yeah, still not seeing the Germany angle.”

“There was no threat from Germany, Eggsy.”

“Your lover is smart. The threat from Germany was to distract, to allow me to follow her closely, more so than I do at home. I didn’t realize she would call you in, but I think it is a fitting revenge for someone who touched something they shouldn’t have.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous, yeah? Mad she picked my cock over yours?” Eggsy taunts, hoping to get Gustav worked up enough to lash out at him, leaving Tilde free to move away from him. “Or, are you mad _she_ got my cock instead of you?” 

His vision blurs for a minute. _Fuck_. 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t taunt the man with the gun,” Harry says from behind him.

“Hush, I’m talking.”

“You see? No respect for your betters. You make me ill. But enough about this.” Gustav reaches in to his pocket and brings out a small detonator. “A friend of mine was nice enough to plant explosives throughout this entire building, within moments we will all be buried under a pile of rubble with a terrorist group taking the blame soon after. Sweden will mourn and move on. At least the Princess will be remembered well, which is more than she deserves.”

“We swept this place for anything dangerous.”

“ _I_ swept this place. Now, I will give you a moment to say goodbye to each other.”

Eggsy vision swims again. _Not now_ , he thinks furiously. He sways. 

“Eggsy?” Harry asks, as Merlin pipes in, “Your vitals are acting odd, Gaheris.”

“Yes, thank you,” he says and he knows they are. Christ, does the man think he doesn't know his palms are sweating and his is heart racing, but what the fuck is he supposed to do? Til is face down on the floor with this fuck’s knee in her back. He steps forward and in front of Harry. Gustav’s gun immediately points at him. Eggsy takes on more step ensuring Gustav’s focus is on him. His knees are shaking from holding his body up, in fact his whole body feels weak. 

 _Please, Harry, do something cause I fucking can’t_ , he thinks.

“Ryence is working on it, lad, he’s scrambling the signal to the explosives. Hold on.” Merlin says and Eggsy could drop to the floor in relief. 

“I told you to stay where you are, are you wanting me to shoot you? I do not think I would mind doing it.”

“Nah, mate, just trying to look you in the eye while you talk shit. Why don’t you let the Princess up, I mean it’s not like she’s a _danger_ right,” Eggsy winks at him. Just two bruvs having a laugh over a girl. He really hopes Til doesn’t think he means it, because he doesn’t, she’s proper scary in her own right.

“Fuck you, Eggsy,” she says from her place on the floor. Eggsy hopes Harry is able to slam that fucker around because Eggsy knows he is fading fast at this point. 

“I am not _taking shit_ as you put it, I am cleaning up my country. We cannot have a whore in the crown and acting as the face of this country.” Tilde struggles and he puts his knee into her harder, Eggsy fears for her spine.

“Seriously though, let her up yeah? If we are all going to be dead in a few minutes, let me at least say good bye to her.”

“You can say it from there.” Gustav’s brow furrows as he notices Eggsy swaying.

“We are losing him, Ryence.”

“Almost. One more minute,” Harry mutters behind him.

“I don’t know if I got that long.”

“Pardon?” Gustav asks.

“Down,” Harry says, grabbing Eggsy’s shoulder and pushing. Eggsy drops, so grateful to not have to stand any longer, as the dart from Harry’s watch flies past his ear. He falls to his hands and knees hard, toppling over to his side. The room is spinning from here and watches as Gustav hits to the floor, stunned by the dart. Harry is helping Tilde up. Her face is bloody but her eyes are clear, cold, _angry_. Harry has her by the chin and he is looking into them, moving his finger in front of her face with one hand while handing her his pocket square in the other. She shoos him away.

“I am _fine_. Worry about Eggsy.” Her voice sounds like it’s coming through cotton but he is happy to see her standing. She’s fine. That’s…

…

…

…good. Harry is kneeling over him, slapping him gently on the face. _When did Harry get over here? He was just standing with Tilde_. Eggsy would scream if he had the energy or the ability, what is happening to him. 

“His eyes are open. Yes, I know you can see that. Why don’t you tell me something useful? What do you mean _watch the Princess_?” Harry asks Merlin. Eggsy slowly drags his eyes from Harry’s face over to where Tilde was standing when he was last aware of her, or of fucking anything really, to see that she has picked up one of the guns and is pointing at Gustav. Eggsy points. Harry turns.

“Princess. Tilde, I don’t think it is the wise…”

She pulls the trigger and now Gustav is the one bleeding from the head onto the floor. Eggsy is pretty sure he won’t be getting up.

“That is one less thing to worry about, I suppose. Can you ask Berlin to bring a cleanup crew?” Harry asks as he turns back to Eggsy. “Darling, look at me.” Eggsy does. “Can you say anything?” Eggsy can, yes, but does he have the energy to? No. He just lies there on the floor. He’s tired. He wants to go to sleep.

He does.

—————

Eggsy flutters awake some time later. Harry is still next to him, his face still pinched and unhappy, his hand wrapped around Eggsy’s. He is reading a paper. 

In Swedish because he’s a fucking showoff.

Eggsy blinks and looks around. The plane. They must be flying back to the palace. Tilde, her face discoloring from the broken nose, is laying on the couch across from him, sleeping, her mouth open so she can breathe with just a little string of drool hanging from it. He loves that girl. 

He squeezes Harry’s hand.

“Eggsy, you gave Merlin and I a fright.”

“Mmm,” he hums, “weak, tired. Love you. Back to sleep.”

Black.

When he wakes again, he is in medical at the manor, no longer in his bespoke. Harry had changed his clothes and he was wearing the super soft sweats and t-shirt he favors when he is sick. _It’s becoming my normal fucking uniform_ , he thinks, bitter. Harry and Merlin are in the corner of the room arguing. He’s not coherent enough quite yet to follow the thread but he can tell by the red creeping up Merlin’s neck it is not good. The room has stopped spinning and he is able to reach the water bottle on the table next to him without too much effort. He still feels like he just ran the obstacle course five times in a row, shaky muscles and a dry mouth, but still, loads better than he did earlier. Or yesterday. Fucking hell, he doesn’t even know how long her has been here for. 

He clears his throat. Both men whirl around to look at him.

Merlin hurries over and shines a pen light in his eyes. 

“Oi, stop it, fuck,” Eggsy says closing his eyes, “that fucking hurts.”

“My pen light?”

“No, Merlin, the knife you just poked me with. Of course, your pen light.”

Merlin frowns and scribbles something on his clipboard. “I’ll get Dr. Gipson.”

“Turn down the lights, Harry, please?” Eggsy does his best to keep a whine out of his voice.

Harry does so before he comes over to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it rather than the chair when Eggsy scoots over for him. He brushes Eggsy’s hair back with one hand while Eggsy leans into the touch. 

“It's nice, love.”

“Still have a headache?”

“Not a bad one, but yeah, a dull ache. And my fucking eyes hurt. What did I miss in Sweden?”

“Nothing of consequence. I saw Tilde into the palace while the pilot sat with you, and Merlin monitored you on the glasses, and sat with her while the royal doctor looked her over. Just a broken nose and bruised pride I am happy to report.”

“Good. I can’t believe she put a bullet in Gustav. Remind me to _never_ piss her off.”

Harry smiles down at him, still carding his hand through Eggsy’s hair and rubbing his scalp. “Quite. Oh, and Tilde’s parents were so happy to have their daughter back safe and sound that they offered me her hand in marriage, which I am considering, mind.”

“You won’t be happy, Harry, once you realize that you won’t be able to be the Queen,” Merlin says as he comes back through the door, Gipson in tow. 

“Have I ever mentioned that I loathe you?”

“Multiple times, yet I am always the one you come crying to, so take that any way you would like.”

“Gaheris,” Gipson says, coming around the other side of the bed, “Merlin mentioned that the light hurt your eyes, is this true?”

“Yeah, felt like needles in my eyes. Knowing him, he’s probably testing out some new torture device on me without telling me.” Eggsy peers around Harry so give a weak smile to Merlin, who returns it, his face still worried. 

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Remind me to tell you about Ibiza some time,” Harry says, sending a dark look Merlin’s way.

“Are you _still_ moaning about that? I had no way of knowing that the hallucinogen would get into your drink as well. Besides, you enjoyed yourself, so what the fuck are you complaining about?”

“See, Eggsy, not a care for those in his charge. Drugging me without an apology.”

“I still have the feed from that mission of you would like to see it, lad.”

“ _Get in_.”

“Absolutely not, I for…” Harry’s voice breaks off as Gipson pulls a chair up to the bed. Eggsy exchanges a wide-eyed look with Merlin and Harry.

“Christ, Doc, you ain’t never done this before, am I dying?”

“No, Gaheris, but until we find out what is causing all of this…”

“Til’s doc said it was just a concussion.”

“There is no sign of one now, so that is not what caused you to pass out in Germany.”

“And nearly compromise a mission, as much as I hate to say it,” Merlin says, looking grave.

“Now, Merlin, you’re over reacting,” Harry says, squeezing Eggsy’s hand.

“I don’t think I am, Harry.”

“Merlin and I have discussed it with Arthur and we have decided that we are taking off the agent roster until we have had time to run some more tests,” Gipson says.

Eggsy jumps out of bed, ignoring the way the room spins. “With all fucking due respect, Doc, that’s bullshit.”

“Eggsy,” Merlin tries, “it’s not forever, but we can’t have you in the field when we don’t know if you will vomit on your shoes or pass out and fall off a building. You can still work from here and go on local missions.”

“ _Local_ missions? Fetch some cat down out of the tree for some posh bitch? Or maybe I can put on my chav clothes and go play the part of some fuck up for you lot, yeah? Fucking local missions. You can all go fuck yourselves.”

“Eggsy, be reasonable,” Harry says, reaching for him and grabbing his arm lightly. “They are just trying to do what is best for you, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

Eggsy shakes off Harry’s hand. “I thought out of anyone, Harry, you would understand,” he says, right before he runs out of the room. As the door shuts behind him, his turns around and slides a nearby broom through the door handle. That should give him just a few minutes head start. The lights are making his head throb but he ignores it.

“Gaheris?” Enide calls out when she sees him. “Shouldn’t you be back in your room? Where is the doctor?”

“Busy, Enide, he’s back there with Merlin and Ryence.”

Cedric comes up behind her, his eyes narrowing at Eggsy. 

“I really think you should come back to your room, Gaheris,” he says, moving to intercept him. Eggsy runs towards him and as soon as Cedric puts an arm out in front of him to grab him, Eggsy drops to his knees and slides under it, jumping back to his feet as soon as he is out of reach.

“No offense to you Cedric, or you Enide,” he calls over his shoulder, “but I can’t be here right now.”

Eggsy hightails it to the hangar where he goes straight to his motorcycle, a Norton Commando, painted bright orange. Harry almost cried when he saw it. He puts on his helmet, grateful for the tinted shield and flies away from the manor. 

A while back, when Harry was still dead, Eggsy was still healthy, and Kingsman was still trying to get their feet back under them, Eggsy would take this bike, an indulgence he bought just for himself, and just ride when all the thoughts in his head turned to blood on black pavement and trust falls turned deadly. On one of those long meandering rides through the countryside he found a place that he is pretty sure few people know about. It’s about ten miles from the manor, to the west. It’s nothing spectacular from the outside, just a small copse of trees, but once you walk into it, you are completely hidden from the road by the woods and the canopy. There is a small group of rocks that have a little space you can crawl into. Eggsy spent a lot of time there, curled into himself, crying, and picturing what things would have been like had he shot JB and went to Kentucky with Harry. 

He’d be dead, he knows, killed by Harry’s hand, because Eggsy is under no illusion that Harry couldn’t take him down with both legs broken and only one arm, but he liked to daydream. 

He kills the bike on the road, walking it in using only the light from the moon that had risen as he drove. Once he gets into the tree cover, he rummages through the saddlebags and finds that he still has some meal bars, even if they are a little stale, a couple bottles of water, and his blanket that he always kept there. Good, he’ll be damned if he is going back tonight. Let them fucking stew in it.

What the fuck can be so wrong with him that they can figure it out and fucking _fix_ it? He ain’t never had an issue with being sick, ever. He could walk ten miles in pissing rain, in the goddamn cold, while kissing a bird that had the flu, and still wake up the next morning feeling like a million bucks. 

But this past year or more, fucking puking every other week, seizures, now he’s passing out like he’s ten pints in to a five pint night. And the fucking headaches, Jesus. He didn’t know your head could hurt so bad. It’s like coming off of pills all over again. 

Now they want to take him out of the field. Like what the fuck is he supposed to do? Go to the manor and haunt the halls? Maybe he can become a _handler_ like Harry. Where fucking reject agents go to die, yeah? He can watch everyone else out there fucking _doing_ something and choke on his own hatred, just like Harry in that aspect as well. Maybe they can have matching alcohol problems. The couple that drinks together sinks together and all that. He can introduce Harry to the oblivion a good pill and whiskey mixer can bring. Sounds fucking grand.

He sees everything he never knew he could love being snatched away from him without warning, leaving him nothing more but some fucking chav from the estates again. How will he take care of his mum, Daisy, Ryan and Jamal, the fucking people that depend on him? Nausea rolls through him and he cries thinking that he is out here in the middle of nowhere and pretty soon he is just going to be puking himself to death and no one knows where he is but he doesn’t get sick. No, he sits there crying, choking himself on a meal bar he forces himself to eat, and then builds a small fire, sitting up far into the night. 

He knew it was all too good to last.

—————

Eggsy doesn’t come back to the manor after a few hours, and when they triangulate his glasses, once Cedric let them out of the room, they find them lying on a workbench inside the hangar. Eggsy’s atrocious orange motorbike is gone, his cellphone is non-responsive, and without his glasses they have no hope of finding him.

Harry knows that he will most likely find his way home to the Mews when he is ready. Merlin’s hair, if he had any, is standing on end but Harry is far from worried. Eggsy is a trained Kingsman agent, it’s not like he is in any danger. And as for the dizziness and passing out, Harry knows that isn’t likely to happen either, unless Harry grossly miscalculated. Germany was a miscalculation, he admits, but only for timing reasons.

If he hasn’t shown his face by tomorrow morning, Harry will pull some of his less than savory ways to find him. He doesn’t mind giving Eggsy a little space, but one must be realistic.

He pours himself a drink and settles in to the couch. He keeps thinking of the look of devastation that crossed Eggsy’s face before anger had taken over when they informed him he is off the active roster. Harry understood it, it was the same emotions he had cycled through when Merlin told him he would never be Galahad again. It’s the emotions he _still_ goes through almost every morning he pulls on his suit to go to the manor and watch the other agents through a computer monitor. 

He could tell himself that he is doing this for Eggsy’s own good, he most definitely could. After all, as a handler Eggsy will live a much longer and pain free life. He will maintain the same rate of pay because Arthur would never take money from him knowing that Michelle and Daisy also subsist in a large part off of Eggsy’s income, and even in a smaller way, Jamal and Ryan do as well as Eggsy does not charge them rent. Eggsy’s money spreads as far as his love does, and it will continue to do so, even if Arthur cuts his pay, Harry will supplement it himself. 

Just one more way Harry takes care of Eggsy. The boy should thank him for the extremes Harry goes to for him.

Being a handler will allow him more time to do the things he loves, see the people he loves, and ensure that he will never stare down the barrel of a gun, content with his number being called, only to wake up and find it was a cruel joke. 

In a few months he will talk to Arthur about giving Eggsy small missions now and again. Safe ones. Yes, he will do that. Anything for Eggsy.

So, yes, he could say he is doing this for Eggsy even though he will never understand and can never know because Harry is sure that if he knew, Harry would find himself on the pointy end of Eggsy’s shoe blade. 

While he could say that, he will not. This whole thing started out as a mutually beneficial arrangement. Eggsy needed to be cared for, Harry needed to care for him. Tit for tat. 

But now?

Harry is in the habit of lying, but he is not in the habit of lying to _himself_. He knows that he is doing this, this final act, well, final act that he will keep going, only for himself. He wants someone else to feel the pain of having something they are good at taken from them. He wants someone else to know what it is like to be put out to pasture before your time. He wants someone else to know what it's like to be _useless._

He loves Eggsy. God, he truly does. He loves that boy like he has never loved anything else before in his black, hateful existence. He would move mountains for him. Assassinate heads of state. Kill anyone that Eggsy needed dead. Annihilate small countries. All for Eggsy. Anything he could ask for Harry would give him, anything, so deep is Harry’s love. 

Anything but the freedom to live his life as he sees fit, Harry supposes, as he swirls his drink in the glass, looking into it’s tawny depths. Well, not so much freedom, he certainly isn’t chaining Eggsy up, although if he was into a little experimentation in the bedroom Harry wouldn't say no, but the freedom to navigate it, because Harry is already navigating it, very subtly, very quietly, behind the scenes. He navigated himself into being Eggsy’s handler, navigated Eggsy into moving into his home, and now he has navigated him right into being there to share Harry’s role as “former agent.”

Besides, he wants Eggsy home with him, where he belongs. He has grown used to the noise and the space that Eggsy exists in and he is very put off when he is not there. Eggsy should _want_ to be home with him, shouldn’t he? What does he get in the field that Eggsy can’t get at home? Nothing. Having been in the field he can say that with authority, because if he had ever met anyone that loved Harry like he loves Eggsy, he would have quit the field.

No, no he wouldn’t. Harry huffs a small laugh to himself in the quiet left behind when the album finished. 

There he goes, trying to lie to himself even after saying he didn’t.

Let’s try again. 

He doesn’t want to watch Eggsy seduce, kill, and parkour himself through missions. He doesn’t want to because as much as Harry loves him, he hates him, and is jealous of him in equal amounts. Looking at Eggsy is like looking at his younger self come to live, all cock, swagger, and physical prowess, and Harry wants to smash it. 

He will have to play it even more carefully now, keeping up Eggsy’s symptoms, but never pushing the envelope too much lest they run tests that will come up with results Harry does not want them coming up with. Eggsy will demand them if he feels something is truly wrong, or his mother will demand them for him. 

No, he will need to handle this with care. 

Eggsy will come to see that the life of a handler gives him everything he wants, and Harry will be useful and needed by his sickness prone boyfriend who is having trouble adjusting the handler life after being an agent. How truly lucky Eggsy is to have someone who has recently went through the same thing. 

After he finishes his drink he goes upstairs, has a bath and a lovely wank thinking of all the ways Eggsy could thank him. 

Eggsy comes home the next morning, his head hanging. He practically falls against Harry when he holds out his arms. Harry helps him up to the tub where he gently washes him while Eggsy stares. He dresses him while Eggsy ponders his feet. He calls for a cab to take them back to medical as Eggsy slumps against him, paying no heed to the wrinkles he is putting in his clothes. 

And after, after Merlin and Gipson reiterate what they said, a temporary leave of absence from field work until they can figure out what is wrong with Eggsy or his symptoms disappear, he holds Eggsy while he sobs. Loud, keening things as if someone had died. Which, as Harry well knows, someone has, the someone Eggsy thought he would be. 

Lucky for him, Harry knows how to teach him to be someone else. Lucky for him indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had something going on every night for the past couple of nights so my editing was a bit rushed. Let me know if you see something I missed.
> 
> And thank you for the reading, kudos-ing, and commenting. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: suicide attempt by Eggsy. Nothing graphic, and it's quick, but the characters do discuss it for a few paragraphs afterwards.

Three weeks, one stomach issue, and one fainting spell after they had pulled Eggsy from field duty he accompanies Harry to the manor on Merlin’s request. He’s not dressed in his suit because why the fuck would he be? But he still dresses appropriately, trousers, white shirt, and waistcoat. Sometimes being pretty is all a bloke has, right? Plus the appreciative eye Harry casts over him while he is straightening his tie makes Eggsy stand a little taller.  

“Did Merlin tell you want he wanted me for?” Eggsy asks, inspecting his immaculate nail beds. Since when did he have immaculate nail beds? Oh yeah, when he became a fucking housewife. _Shit_. 

“Not a word, darling. You should know by now he’s not the most forthcoming of people.”

“Yeah, but you’re his best mate and all.”

“Which means he’s even less forthcoming. He knows that anything he tells me I will tell you, and even if I don’t you’ll torture it out of me with bamboo under my nails or those exquisite handjobs you’ve been giving me lately…” Harry’s eyes narrow. “Wait, _are_ you trying to bribe me?”

Eggsy comes over and kisses Harry. “Not at all, just like getting my hands on your cock, yeah?”

“You’re horrid,” Harry says as he leads him out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

“Not saying that during those hand jobs, are you?”

“No, why would I? I may be old but I am not mentally incompetent.”

“Yet.” Harry laughs and smacks Eggsy on the arse, just enough sting to make Eggsy blush. “Now who’s horrid?” he asks, rubbing a hand over where Harry’s had landed as they wait for the cab.

An hour and a half later, which would have been less had Cedric not cornered and grilled him regarding his current health, he makes it to Merlin’s office. He fucking asked about his bowel movements. Eggsy had just turned on his heel and left at that question. He ain’t talking about that in the middle of the damn hall like they're discussing footie. 

“Eggsy,” Merlin says as he walks in, “so nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry, guv, got waylaid by Cedric.”

“Ah, yes, bowel movements. Fascinating topic.”

“What the fuck?”

“I was searching for you when you were late. I figured you and Harry were off having some sort of tryst in a cleaning cupboard, but Harry is already at his station drinking his tea…” Merlin cocks his head to the right where Harry is sitting back, one lean leg crossed over the other, sipping his tea, as he talks someone through a mission. “So naturally I wondered where our own little prince was. ‘Lo-and-behold, you were with Cedric, and I forgave you the minute I heard the topic of conversation. I’ve been there myself. The man has an unhealthy obsession with other people’s shit.”

“ _Thank_ you. Glad to know I ain’t special.”

“Oh, you’re not, no matter what your Daddy tells you.”

Harry glances over and raises his cup to them.

“Oi, fuck off,” Eggsy says, winking at Harry. “So’s you going to tell why I came out here today, or did you just want to see something pretty?”

“If I wanted to see something pretty, I’d look in the mirror.”

Harry chokes on his tea.

Merlin laughs quietly and makes marks on his clipboard. “I wanted to ask you to help with training.”

“Those who can’t do, teach, yeah?” Eggsy replies, a sour taste in his mouth.

“What did I tell you during training?”

“Whisper it in your ear?”

“Besides that,” Merlin says, his arms crossed.

“Take the chip off my shoulder?”

“Too fucking right. Do so before I take you to the mats and help you. All the _agents_ are helping with training, even that one-eyed fossil over there.”

“What was that, Merlin? I’m afraid I’m not fluent in _impotent bald arsehole_. Eggsy, darling, could you get one of those translator devices that Merlin’s second designed? Ever so bright she is.” He looks at Merlin thoughtfully while sipping his tea. “We should probably put our current Merlin out to pasture before he starts pissing himself and gumming his gruel, and promote her.”

“Seriously, why aren’t you two married.”

Merlin and Harry look at each other, look at Eggsy and shudder.

“We tried that in…” Harry begins just as Merlin holds his pen up, the ink tip pointing behind him, over his left shoulder, at Harry. He clicks the push button at the top once and a second later Harry jumps, smacking a hand to his neck.

“What the fuck, Merlin?”

“Don’t worry, Eggsy, the dart wasn’t loaded, just needed to test it out on someone. How fortunate Harry volunteered.”

“I did no such thing,” Harry says as he pulls the dart from his neck.

Merlin considers his pen and then looks back up at Eggsy. “I can’t remember if I loaded the next one. Shall we find out?”

“Piss off,” Harry answers, turning back to his screen.

“I’ll just find out later,” Eggsy mutters. 

“Oh, I am sure you will, but _I_ won’t be here to relive it, will I? I have yet to find the right amount of scotch and pot needed to erase that night from my mind.”

“Fucking hell, Merlin, you smoke? If I would’ve known…”

Merlin cuts him off. “Not with you I don’t. Now, if you don’t mind, I would _love_ to get on with getting you ready for training. The cohort has been standing outside for an hour now and it’s raining.”

“Character building.”

Merlin’s face brightens. “See? Now you’re thinking like a trainer, lad,” he says, clapping Eggsy on the shoulder. “We are already down to eight, so I think this is where you will really be able to see what they are made of. I would like you to teach them free running and hand to hand combat, two of your specialties. Let me know what your observations are.”

“Do I get a fancy clipboard?”

Merlin haphazardly tears a piece of paper off of pad sitting on the desk next to him and hands it to him with a pencil. The pencil has a broken lead.

“What the hell is this?”

“Character building.”

—————

Eggsy has to admit, he likes it. Training, that is. More so that he would have expected. He enjoys seeing the underdog, Gwaine’s proposal, a woman who reminds him of Roxy with how she goes from proper to punishing in five seconds, succeed and all the fucking posh pricks fail. Repeatedly. 

Two months fly by and soon Eggsy is looking at the final three. Gwaine’s proposal, Jasmine, Percival’s proposal, an alright bloke named Jamie, and Beaumains’ proposal, Charlie’s bigger, more dickish clone, Randolph. 

Eggsy loathes Randolph, and by the looks he gets, Randolph feels the same. In fact, Eggsy makes his pencil stays sharp so he can write tomes on how much he hates fucking _Randolph._

While writing said tomes, he notices the date and realizes with a rush that it has been over a month since he has had any sort of health issue outside of a normal headache. He hurries through the rest of his training report, hands it off to Lunete, Merlin’s extremely brilliant second of the translator thingamajigs, and almost vibrates home with his excitement.

He blows through the door to find Harry sleeping on the couch with a cool flannel over his eyes. Eggsy takes off his shoes and tip toes over to Harry. He removes the flannel and rubs his thumbs over Harry’s forehead. Harry groans.

“Migraine, love?”

“Yes, the bloody damned thing hit this afternoon. Ferguson had to help me into the house from the cab.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were busy with your new lover, Randolph,” Eggsy snorts quietly, still rubbing Harry’s temples and eyelids, “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Always disturb me. Can you move?”

“I think so.”

“Let me get you into bed. Then I will come down and make us tea. Did you take your meds?”

“I did, but I am due for another round. This will be dreadfully boring for you, I’m afraid.”

“No worries Harry, once you’re snoring, I’ll call Randolph, yeah?”

Later, in bed, after Eggsy had fed, watered, and medicated Harry, he has him curled up on his chest, waiting for the pills to kick in.

“You came in awfully quick earlier, something the matter? Merlin being an arsehole again? I’d say I’d talk to him but I might as well have a conversation with the drapes.”

Eggsy laughs, his nose in Harry’s hair. “Not a bit, but let’s worry about that tomorrow. Right now you need to sleep.”

Eggsy doesn’t mean to fall asleep with Harry but he does, neither of them moving all night. Eggsy wakes first, Harry’s pills always knock him for six, and texts Merlin to tell him he will be in late, and Harry might not be at all. 

_Tell the desiccated wrinkle to get better and to call me if he needs anything but cannot get through to you. I can have Alistair drop by later if needed._

_Thanks, Merlin_ , Eggsy types, _you’re the guv. Want to talk to you about something, your office @ 3:30? I’ll bring tea._

_Earl Grey, and don’t forget the honey._

Eggsy goes into the kitchen making a pot of tea, some toast and some poached eggs for his and Harry’s breakfast. He is just carrying the tray up when he hears the toilet flush so Harry is up and moving. A good sign after last night. He comes in just as Harry is sliding back between the sheets. He sits up against the headboard, his bare chest on display, his curls fluffing about on his head. Eggsy _loves_ Harry in the morning.

“I was coming down in a few minutes, Eggsy. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Your mouth is yapping some nonsense, but your eyes are looking at those eggs the same way you were eyes my arse last week.”

“Well, not in the _same_ way.”

“I hope not. If you eat these eggs like you ate my arse I won’t get a nibble.”

“I shall try to restrain myself.” Harry glances at the clock on Eggsy’s bedside table. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Yeah, I texted Merls to let him know I would be in late on account of your brains falling out of your head.”

Harry’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead. “Merls? Please tell me you have never called him that to his face.”

“Only when I was on a mission, a long one.”

“And he let you come back home?”

"I was surprised too. But, pet names for Merlin aside, I wanted to talk to you about something before I left."

Harry’s eyes close as he sits back with a steaming cup of tea while Eggsy busies himself with fixing a plate of eggs and toast for him. “Such as?”

“I am going to talk to Merlin and Dr. Gipson about letting me back into the field again. Kind of like a trial run. It’s been weeks since I was last sick and I feel great, I even ran the obstacle course everyday last week with the candidates. I wasn’t dizzy, or sick, or nothing.”

“You don’t need to ask my permission for this,” Harry replies looking down at his tea.

“No, but I would like your blessing so to speak, and what you think them two will say.”

Harry sighs and takes his plate from Eggsy’s hand, eating his way through a few bites before he responds. 

“As for my blessing, of course you have it, I always support you. Gipson thinks you shit sunbeams so he should fall right over himself to say yes after he runs a battery of tests. Merlin is going to be the one to convince, however. He will not put you in the field if he thinks doing so will put you, the mission, or the secrecy of the agency in danger. He has kept me out for a month after Gipson gave the go ahead. Bald prick.”

“Any pointers on how to convince him?”

“Eggsy, if I could soften him up I would be the most sought after person in the manor. Just put your case to him as unemotionally as possible. Merlin deals in facts not feelings unless we are talking about Alistair.”

“Those two are good together.”

"They are. Merlin loved him the entire time he was with James, and while I am sorry James is gone, I can’t be sorry that losing him gave me you and gave Merlin Alistair," Harry says, taking Eggsy's hand and kissing his knuckles.

“Sap. Right, I’m for the shower then. Will you be in today or will you stay home?” Eggsy asks as he stands and strips, doing a little bump and grind just to make Harry laugh.

“No, I think I will stay home. My head still aches and I might take one more round of my pills and sleep it off.”

“Stay away from the whiskey, old man. I don’t want to come home and find you dead.”

“On my honor.”

—————

Harry stays in bed until Eggy’s leaves and then goes to what supplies he has to hand, seeing if there is anything he needs to top up. 

He takes care of his boy, even when Eggsy doesn’t know it.

—————

Harry was right. Gipson runs a complete battery of tests, checking Eggsy’s blood work, strength, balance, coordination, vision and orders a new set of MRI’s, which come back beautiful. 

“You are in top shape, Gaheris. You would have never known you had been sick just a little over a month ago. Your throat is still a little more irritated than I would like, but that should continue to heal. I can’t see any reason you can’t go back into the field, but I will be ask that Merlin keep you close to home, as we discussed last time,” Eggsy glares, “for the first, shall we say three?”

“Fine, I’ll give you three, Doc, but if I’m doing good, restrictions are off, yeah?”

“Agreed. Have fun convincing Merlin. That will take every bit of cunning you have.”

Eggsy stops by the kitchen to make a tea tray with Earl Grey, Merlin’s favorite honey, and some chocolate biscuits Eggsy _may_ have bought on the way in to sweeten the pot. He arranges them in what he hopes appears as artful, because presentation is everything, and heads to Avalon. He nods to some of the handlers, and Islode, seeing the tray, gives him the thumbs up.

He even knocks.

“Eggsy, knocking and biscuits. You _are_ kissing a large amount of arse today. Does it have anything to do with the email I received from Dr. Gipson?”

“Yeah, I thought that maybe I could have a few missions thrown my way again,” Eggsy starts as Merlin fixes the tea.

“You did?”

“Spoke to Dr. Gipson today and he reckons a few missions close to home to see how I do would be a good start and then we can reassess after that.”

“You don’t sound to sure of yourself, lad. It doesn’t make me feel that sure of you.” Merlin eyes him as he blows softly on the surface of his tea. His eyes are assessing. 

“I am ready for the field again, Merlin. I ran the obstacle course all last week with the candidates and have been practicing with them since you put me on the job to keep my skills in top form.”

“I know.”

“You know? And you never said nothing?”

“From what I could see you were not pushing yourself, and had you, I would have said something. You were doing exactly what I expected you to. Good news is that I actually have a local mission, well, local-ish. Close enough that we can get to you, and I am sending you with another agent.”

“Fucking training wheels? I think I am off of them.”

“Not a chance. This is a two agent job. You and Gwaine will head to a small town in Lithuania to plant a few listening devices in the home of a small government official. We've heard things coming out of there and they point to him being the middle man between a disgruntled faction and arms dealers. It’s just murmurs right now, but we want to get a more intimate view of his day to day.”

“Angle?”

“Honeypot for Gwaine. One of his covers and the official, Mr. Zukas, have had an on again, off again, relationship for years. You will be his valet.”

“Gwaine goes in for blokes?”

“Gwaine goes in for what the job requires. And while I don’t think it’s his first choice, he is not opposed to it.”

"Got to be honest, everyone made it sound like convincing you to let me back out would be an uphill battle and all."

"It would have been had I not been watching you and keeping a close eye on your health. I have been thinking of sending you out again myself. The first hint of a relapse and you're out again. I will not risk you for the sake of your pride. Understood?"

"Yes, Merlin."

"Good lad."

“Right. So when do we leave?”

“Day after tomorrow. Here is your packet,” Merlin says while handing him a folder, and Gwaine is in his office if you want to speak to him. Not get out of my hair.”

“Ah, Merlin…”

“Leave with the packet or finish that sentence and give it back to me.”

—————

Four days later Eggsy is back from Lithuania with no adverse effects. To celebrate he has Harry over the antique dining room table, leaving the most impressive smudge marks on its finish. Once Harry can move again he looks horrified, and after a thorough shower during which he gets Eggsy off again, he spends the rest of the evening polishing while Eggsy lazes about come dumb and happy. 

“I take it the mission went well, dearest?” Harry asks as he sips tea and polishes. 

“Yes, very well, and I’ll tell you what, for not being that into men, Gwaine sure plays it well. He had that bastard eating out of his hand, literally at one point.”

“He has quite the reputation as the seducer. Rivals myself in fact, which is quite a feat.”

“So I have heard.”

“About Gwaine?” Harry asks as he rubs the table with a cross expression. While most people would find Harry’s fussiness annoying, Eggsy finds it adorable. Most of the time. Ninety percent. Eighty at least, swear down.

“No, you. Was reading through your old files one day.”

“God, what ever for? I would tell the story better.” He looks up and winks with his good eye. Or perhaps just closes it quickly. Since he only has one good eye, how the fuck does Eggsy know what is a wink or a normal blink? Not that it fucking matters.

“Was there a certain one that caught your eye?”

“Nigeria, 1994.”

“The Countess?”

“Yeah, the one that captured you, tortured you, and then you sweet-talked her so good she let you into her bed, and then she proposed, just before you blew her and her buddies up.”

“Well, she was selling children, Eggsy, you can't fault my methods.”

“Not in the least, I was just curious of how you fuck someone so good that you go from being their prisoner to their pretty bedwarmer.” Eggsy comes and over and sits across the table from where Harry is polishing.

“Surely being on the receiving end of my prick has answered that,” Harry says. 

Eggsy slides a pill across to Harry. “I was thinking I might need a refresher course if you’re _up_ for it, old man.”

Harry swallows it. “Oh, quite. Just not on the table. I am not polishing this damn thing twice.”

—————

Eggsy is curled up on the couch at Roxy’s flat going over the mission brief for their upcoming mission the following week. He is fucking thrilled that his first mission after the full medical clear is going to be with Rox even if they have to play lovers. Like really play it. 

Like there is a small possibility he may have to bang her. Not to say Rox isn’t fucking gorgeous, she is, she’s a fucking Queen. And he’s banged friends before and could do so without it getting fucking weird. But sticking his cock in Rox seems a lot different than sticking it in Ryan. And that wasn’t even for work. 

“Rox.” He prods her with his toe until she looks up at him, tucking her folder underneath her chin. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

“What? The mission? Are you feeling ok?”

“Jesus, yes, I feel fine. I am drinking this vitamin mix that Doc gave me,” he shakes his water bottle at her. “No, I mean, I don’t know if I can fuck you is all.”

“A little presumptuous isn’t it? Perhaps I will be the one fucking _you_. After all, I’ve heard how much you like a good buggering, the whole manor has, and maybe I wouldn’t mind getting in on that. Tell Harry I’ll even wear my glasses so he can watch.”

Eggsy’s jaw drops. He ponders it for a moment. Definitely something he hasn’t tried. Not getting fucked in the arse, he’s a connoisseur of that, ta ever so much, but getting fucked by a bird. Who better than to pop that cherry but one of his best mates.

“Alright,” he says and she now gapes at him, “just don’t smack me around, yeah? I don’t think I could call you Mistress and look you in the eye the next day.”

“But you can let me put my fingers in your arse and make you see God.”

“Rox, if you can make me see God, I will call you Mistress. In the manor. For a week.”

She throws a pillow at him and they go back to reading their files, occasionally adding their own details into the covers and making notes. 

An hour later Roxy stands and stretches, popping the bones in her neck and back. She digs in her purse and throws her wallet at him, smacking him in the head. 

“Order us something, if you would. I want to take a quick shower.”

“Indian?”

“Perfect, and make sure you get that side you got last time, it was delicious. I swear my…”

Eggsy can’t hear her anymore, it’s just static in his head, his vision is blurry and filled with light, and he feels like he is having the biggest anxiety attack ever. He feels himself roll off the couch and can’t do nothing to stop it. Someone, has to be Rox, but he can’t see anymore, rolls him off of his face where he fell and onto his back. He is twitching, he can feel that, his limbs jerking on their own, and he can feel vibrations in his throat of sound being produced in quick bursts, _uh-uh-uh_. There is lightning zipping up and down his spine, through his brain, and pulsing through his nerves. 

There is pressure on his shoulders, softness against his face, wetness on his cheeks. 

He arches off the floor. He thinks he might be screaming.

—————

Merlin is in his office, his head in his hands and his heart and stomach somewhere in the vicinity of his feet, when Alistair and Roxanne find him. Roxanne is carrying a bottle of water. 

“We’ve just come from Eggsy’s room. Harry is with him. He still hasn’t woken up,” Alistair says as he places his hand on Merlin’s shoulder and squeezes. Merlin thinks he might cry. He won’t, of course, he has things to take care of.  

Instead he sighs and reaches back to lace his fingers through Alistair’s. He raises his head to look at Roxy. She is an un-put together as he has ever seen her in sweatpants and her uncle’s Oxford sweatshirt, hair in a bun, trainers and red eyes. Merlin is genuinely startled.

She slams the water bottle on the table next to him.

“Eggsy was drinking this when he had that seizure, or what ever the fuck it was. I want it tested, Merlin. I want it tested, and I want his blood tested. Eggsy has been fine for almost two months, and then, out of the blue, he has a seizure. None of this makes any sense and I want someone to get to the… _fuck_ ,” she says. Alistair hands her a handkerchief and she takes it, swiping at her eyes. “I want someone to get to the bottom of it. This isn’t _normal_.”

Merlin catches Alistair’s eyes and he nods slightly. “You’re right. This isn't normal, but what we are suggesting is that someone close to Eggsy,” he says, looking at Alistair, “is deliberately making Eggsy sick.”

Roxanne is wiping tears away again and Alistair leaves Merlin’s side to put his arms around her. 

“I don’t care what it means. I just want him to be healthy. And if I find out someone _is_ doing this on purpose, I will put my poisoned stiletto heel in to their eye _on purpose_ ,” she says, her voice muffled from where it is pressed against Alistair’s chest. “You don’t know what it was like to see him like that. He shook like he was being electrocuted, eyes open but not _seeing_ anything, and made these grunting sounds, like he was trying to talk but couldn’t, and then he just arched up off the floor so hard I thought he would break his own fucking back. I have faced down an armed militia, been tortured, assaulted, and this was the first time I think I was truly terrified.”

Merlin stands and goes to them, putting his arms around Alistair and Roxanne, taking strength from the warmth of their bodies against his, sending up a prayer to something that he doesn’t believe exists that he will not find what he thinks he will find.

 _Please, let me, let_ us _, be wrong._

_—————_

Merlin stares at the wall for a few moments after Alistair and Roxanne leave. The water bottle, still half full, sits on his desk. He sighs, pulls on plastic gloves, and carefully deposits it in the bottom of his filing cabinet. He locks it before leaving the room and heading to medical.

When he gets to medical he stops by the main desk. “Enide, good evening,” he says, leaning on the desk with both arms. “I’m afraid I have to ask you a favor. Would you be willing to help me out?”

“Depends on what it is. If you’re asking me to do anything for Gaheris, yes. If you are asking me to do anything for Ryence, no. He has been an absolute terror to everyone, like we aren’t just as worried about Gaheris as he is, as if Dr. Gipson isn’t doing everything he can.”

“No, just bureaucratic shite today. It popped up in the system for a random count of the medical and chem closet, just the prescriptions and compounds in the store room, not the supplies. If you could count those and email it to me, it would be very helpful.”

“Oh, that’s no problem at all. I’ll have them to you within the hour.”

“Thank you, Enide, and don’t mention this to anyone, please. Technically _I_ am the one who should do this, and these are supposed to be, well, a _surprise,_ but I would really rather check in on Gaheris.”

“Go on then, I’ll take care of it.”

Eggsy is asleep when he gets to the lad’s room, and Harry is in a chair beside him. One of his hands is clasping Eggsy’s and the other slowly turning the page of the book he is reading aloud. 

“Really, Harry, _Lemony Snicket_? I would have never taken you as a fan.”

Harry raises his brows. He looks like hell, Merlin thinks. Worried and pinched in the face, wearing wrinkled khakis and a sweatshirt. Merlin thinks the last time he saw Harry like this was the night they couldn’t raise Alistair on the phone the night of James’ death. He and Harry had torn London apart looking for him, only to find him blackout drunk the panic room of their flat, sobbing into James’ dressing robe. 

“How is he?” Merlin asks, already knowing the answer, having read the chart outside the door.

“Asleep. He woke up briefly when I came in and grabbed his hand. He called me ‘mum’ and dropped back out again. He has had some small muscle spasms since then, but no other seizures, if that what it was. Gipson says that there is still nothing showing up in his blood work. I am questioning the man’s ability to practice medicine, Merlin. Perhaps we should get some fresh blood in here.”

“I can certainly look into getting a second opinion, if that is something Eggsy is interested in, but you know as well as I so that we can’t change Dr. Gipson’s status as head of medical without Arthur’s say so.”

“I already plan on speaking with her when Eggsy is doing better.”

“I’ve never seen Eggsy sick like this, and Ryan and Jamal say that he never had health issues growing up.”

Merlin sees his hand tighten on Eggsy’s. 

“Who knows what he could have been exposed to as an agent? Just this year he was exposed to that virus and multiple concussions. Perhaps this is just a delayed reaction of those things.”

“I’ll remind Gipson about the virus, and we will do an MRI with dye this time. It is possible there is something that is just not showing up without the contrast.”

Harry smiles at him. “Thank you, Merlin. I have been horrid to everyone here since I arrived, but to see Eggsy like this. To hear it from Roxanne. I wasn't there to help him, and that is what I am here for, to take care of him like he needs me to.”

Merlin walks close to Harry and squeezes his shoulder, much like Alistair did to him earlier.

“I feel so useless.”

“I have to get back to my desk. Send for me if you need anything. And make use of that bed behind me. Cedric is to sedate you if he sees you still awake in two hours.”

Harry squeezes his hand back. “Understood. And, thank you for not making me feel like a paranoid old man.”

“We will sort this out, Harry. I promise.”

When he gets back to his desk, he stops to verify receipt of the email from Enide, and prints it, putting it to the side. No need to taint the results with preconceived notions. He takes the water bottle and the bag over his shoulder into his private lab. 

Within the bag he has testing equipment, the latest blood and urine samples taken from Eggsy, as well as the medical reports from his previous stays in medical and the chemical analysis of the virus from earlier in the year. 

He also takes a moment to break into Eggsy’s pre-Kingsman medical records just so he can see how sick, or not sick, Eggsy was a child. 

He is just printing Eggsy’s record Alistair comes in bearing a thermos of tea and biscuits.

“I am going to assume you will be at this all night.”

Merlin turns on his stool to face him. “Yes, I want this done. I am going behind my best friends back in order to test his lover’s blood and urine to see if he is making Eggsy sick.” He scrubs his hands down his face, leaning against Alistair’s chest when he walks closer. “And what the fuck is going to happen if it’s true, Ali? It will destroy them, the first good thing Harry has had in I don’t know how long, and Eggsy? He _loves_ Harry, fiercely. Kingsman seems to take everything from him.”

Alistair tilts Merlin’s face up with his hands so he can place a kiss between his brows and then against his lips, gentle and reassuring. 

“First, do your tests until you are sure they are correct. Call me if you need anything. I have informed Arthur that I need forty-eight hours at home for personal reasons.”

“Jesus, fucking _Arthur_ , what the fuck am I going to tell her? Roxy? Anyone?”

“Hamish,” Alistair says, forcing Merlin to look into his eyes. “Do your tests. Once we have the results, we will make our decisions. One step at a time.”

“Right. You’re right. Thank you.”

“I’ll be in your rooms here at the manor, send for me if you need anything. I’ll come back in the morning.”

“Alistair,” Merlin looks to his left, unable to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. “I am scared. And I don’t know which I am more scared of, being right or being wrong.” 

“One step at a time.”

By morning Merlin is in pieces. He has read through Eggsy’s records and everyone was right, prior to Kingsman Eggsy rarely saw a doctor. Merlin could easily chalk half of that up to the fact that Eggsy did not go when he needed to. Candidate x-rays done when Eggsy first arrived at the manor showed a myriad of small breaks and fractures that had healed on their own, but there are no documented issues with his stomach or his brain, nor did Eggsy mention any when this mess started. 

He has read and re-read the medical files and notes from Gipson concerning Eggsy’s current issues. In all the tests he had ran on Eggsy there was nothing that came up in blood and urine screens, there were no brain injuries that did not rectify themselves as expected, not one thing that could point to why Eggsy was feeling this way, why he kept ending up in medical with a host of symptoms that made no fucking sense at all. 

And that is what Merlin finds the most frightening. 

He goes through the current medical reports once more, making notes of the waste products present in Eggsy’s blood and urine at the beginning, during, and end of each medical stay. He then tests the water to find out exactly what is in it. 

He reads the machine print out on the water. He reads the list of benign compounds listed in Eggsy’s fluids and then he, the papers rustling together in his hands, finally reads the inventory list Enide had sent him.

His knees give out, threatening to take him to the floor, and would have had he not caught himself just in time.

Kingsman, by virtue of being a spy agency, has medical capabilities that are far beyond what the civilian world has and they are not exactly what one might deem _moral_. Kingsman has a host of innocuous medicines and compounds that are fine by themselves, but when mixed properly can cause anything from a mild headache to death. They are not used as much anymore, but a decade ago, they, and the knowledge of how to combine them, were a mainstay in any agent’s arsenal. 

The best thing about the drugs and compounds is that they broke down in the victim’s blood stream quickly and broke down into waste products that would not interest a doctor unless they were looking for them specifically. 

Eggsy’s symptoms, the stream of test results, the water, and the inventory list all had one thing in common. The small amounts of medicines missing from the medical stores, nothing to cause alarm, not so much as it could not be attributed to human error, when mixed with other compounds missing, all cause the symptoms Eggsy is exhibiting and the waste products found in his blood. Gipson never noticed it because it never occurred to him to look for it. Hell, it would have never occurred to _any_ of them to fucking look for it had it not been for Ryan and Jamal, and later Roxy, insisting something was not right. But here it is. Proof that Merlin can not ignore. 

Someone is purposely making Eggsy sick. 

It is highly unlikely that that someone is anyone other than Harry, Merlin’s best friend, a brother in all but blood, and Eggsy devoted boyfriend. No one else has been around him, or within close proximity when each attack occurred.

Merlin locks everything up except the results and goes to Alistair. He needs someone to help him figure out what to do because he cannot see any outcome that does not destroy everyone.

When Merlin delivers the news Alistair’s face mirrors his own, devastation for knowing that someone they love is doing this to someone else they care about and the trapped expression of someone who knows there is no good choice to make in this situation. 

"What are we going to do? We can’t let this go on. He could do something to Eggsy that he won’t be able to bounce back from." Alistair shakes his head, clearing it. "The fact that I just uttered that sentence is horrifying."

“This whole fucking situation is horrifying. I have known Harry for close to thirty years, and while I know he isn’t the most stable emotionally I never would have thought he would do something like this.”

“Maybe that bullet took more from him than we knew.”

“Oh, to be sure, I know it did. I just didn’t realize to what extent.”

“So what is the plan?”

“To be honest, Ali, I haven’t a fucking clue.”

—————

Eggsy wakes to the smell of antiseptic, hospital sheets, and Harry’s hand in his. He frantically searches his memory for what went wrong in the mission. He was at Rox’s going over the backgrounds and he was worried about actually having to fuck her.

 _“A little presumptuous isn’t it? Perhaps I will be the one fucking you,”_ he remembers Rox saying.

Then static, blackness, a wide, arcing pain, his body being lit up from the inside. 

He never went on the mission. He is in medical, again. 

Harry notices that he is awake. Eggsy pulls his hand out of Harry’s and curls away from him on to his right side facing the wall, shrugging off the hand Harry uses to try to turn him over. 

“Please, Harry, I know you’re meaning well and all, but just leave me the fuck alone for a few minutes.”

“Eggsy,” he says, pulling on his shoulder, “I am just trying to help.” 

The door to the room opens and Merlin comes in, Harry’s head turns towards the sound. Eggsy uses the distraction to roll towards Harry over to his left side, shooting his right hand out as he rolls, knocking Harry back into the wall on the other side of the room. Eggsy jumps out of bed and grabs Harry’s belt buckle, depressing the button that pops the small stiletto contained there into his hand.

He is fucking _over_ this shit. He is over it and he is fucking _done_.

He steps back and with one look into Harry’s horrified eyes he brings it up to his throat to drag it across. He knows he isn’t thinking right. He _knows_ this. It is like he is watching himself from above, his mind screaming at him _what about mum and Dais and Ryan and Jamal, you fucking arsehole? What are you fucking doing?_ But he is not listening. He is only seeing the walls of medical closing in around him again, a life of being a trainer stretching out before him, and something that gives him so much self-fucking- _worth_ being taken from him. 

Nothing else matters. 

He pushes the blade into his neck just as something hits him from behind.

—————

“Jesus fucking Christ, Merlin. You just hit a man who just had a seizure and that was holding _a knife to his fucking throat_ in the back of the head with that clipboard of yours. Fuck,” Harry says as he and Merlin drag Eggsy back into the bed.

“Would you have rather let him cut his own throat, Harry?”

“You could have driven him on to the blade.”

“I fully understood the risk I was taking, and in my calculations, my response was the best one. It was certainly better than yours which was to stand there all wide-eyed and _watch_ him.” Merlin retorts, his eyes on Eggsy as they situate him. “I am calling for Gipson. Eggsy is being put on suicide watch until he wakes up and let’s us know he is in his right fucking head.”

A few minutes later Gipson is bustling in. He and Merlin secure Eggsy’s arms to the bed rails. Harry stands back and watches. 

He realizes that this has gotten out of hand. He never expected Eggsy to react like this. Yes, he contemplated taking his own life when he could no longer be an agent, but he was alone. Eggsy is not, Eggsy has _him_ , and he thought that would be enough. He thought that the life that Eggsy has given back to him would be the same thing he gave back to Eggsy. 

But he is not enough for Eggsy. He must be better, be enough, so that Eggsy can be happy without being an agent. 

He glances up to the see Merlin looking at him strangely. 

“Cedric will be in the room for the rest of his shift, and someone will replace him when it ends.”

“Is my presence not sufficient, Merlin?”

Again, a strange look. Harry has always been able to read Merlin, always, and yet, now, he cannot figure out what is going on in that domed head of his.

“No, Harry, not after your reaction to this. He needs to be watched by someone that will not hesitate to knock the lad out again.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Fine, but I will not be leaving.”

“Actually you will. You will run Bors’ mission in one hour. I hope you got some sleep.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack. I have been more than understanding with both your and Eggsy’s medical issues but I have no one else free to handle the comms. Cedric will alert both of us if anything happens.”

Harry stalks towards the door, getting right up into Merlin’s personal space. He will never forgive him for this. 

“You are an arsehole of the nth degree.”

“I know.”

—————

Merlin watches Harry leave the room, almost thankful that Eggsy pulled this stunt because he had yet to figure out how he would keep Harry from being alone with him until Merlin figured out the next step of fixing this. 

He looks down at Eggsy now strapped to his bed, a small cut on his neck that Gipson doctored, and sighs.

“I hope that you will understand, Eggsy, when this is all said and done,” he says to him even though he knows Eggsy can’t hear him, “that all of this is because you have people that love you, but for what it is worth, I am profoundly sorry.”

He turns when Cedric enters the room, taking up sentry duty in the chair recently vacated by Harry, his dark eyes quickly cataloging every thing as they flick down Eggsy’s body. 

“You alert me first if there is any change, if he so much as whimpers, Cedric. _Me first_.”

“Yes, sir,” Cedric says. “Don’t worry, though, he’s in good hands.”

“The best,” Merlin answers, forcing a smile. 

—————

Eggsy wakes a few hours later, right when Harry is in the thick of it with Bors. He tells Harry and goes to see Eggsy himself. 

“Eggsy,” he says by way of greeting.

“ _Eggsy_?” he mimics, “That’s what you have to say when I wake up to my hands tied to the fucking bed?” He rattles the straps for good measure, as if Merlin doesn’t know they are there. 

“Well, you tried to cut your own throat, lad. Surely you see how that called for drastic measures.”

“Yeah, I fucking know, but I ain’t suicidal, Merlin. You can unlock me and send the guard dog,” he tips his head towards the nurse standing in the corner, “no offense mate, home.”

“I will be happy to unlock you but he stays. Or he can go, and you can stay trussed. Your choice.”

“Merlin, I told you, I ain’t fucking suicidal.”

“The cut on your neck says different, Eggsy. And you knowingly went for the knife in Harry’s buckle. You were coherent. Surely you can see how that gives us pause.”

“Jesus. Fine, fucking he can stay, just unlock me. My bollocks itch and I ain’t asking you to scratch them.”

“Not even with a gun to my head would I.”

He unlocks the straps and averts his eyes while Eggsy _attends_ to things. 

“Can I have a piss alone, or does someone need to come in and hold it for me?”

“Did I knock any sort of social tact out of you when I smacked you with my clipboard, or are you just being a twat for fun?” Merlin asks, unimpressed.

“Was that you?” Eggsy rubs the back of his head. “Fuck, bruv, I have a lump back there.”

Merlin waves his hands at him. “Go have your piss already. I want to talk to you about what the hell happened earlier.”

Eggsy at least has the common sense to look abashed at that and heads into the loo. Once he is done, he settles on the bed. Merlin nods at the nurse.

“You’re free to go until I am done here. I’ll send for you.” He faces Eggsy, sets his clipboard down on the foot of the bed, crosses his legs, and fixes Eggsy with his green eyes. “Talk.”

Eggsy plucks at his flannel trousers. “You saw, Merlin, I don’t think there is much to talk about.”

“You just tried to slit your own throat in front of Harry and I. I think there is a _lot_ we can talk about.”

“I’m really not suicidal, Merlin, swear down. I guess I just lost it when I woke up and found myself here again with Harry fussing over me. I’m feeling like his patient rather than his boyfriend, lately. I mean we already have an unbalanced relationship,” Eggsy scoffs when he sees the look of surprise on Merlin’s face. “Come on, I ain’t dumb. I know me and Harry aren’t the healthiest, most balanced relationship, but I fucking love him and I don’t give a fuck. But anyway, at least when we started dating, I was an agent, paying my own bills and all that. Now every few months I am fucking sick and pretty soon Arthur is going to kick me to the fucking curb. No one pays an employee that ain’t working, bruv.”

“Eggsy, I can guarantee you that you will always have a paycheck and a place here.”

“You can’t do that, Merlin, you ain’t Arthur.”

“You’d be surprised of what I can do.”

Eggsy watches him for a moment, considering. “You know what, I probably wouldn’t be. Seriously though, I fucking freaked out earlier. I’m fucking sick of this,” he waves his hand around, “being here, nobody knowing what the fuck is wrong with me, not being able to do my fucking job because we never know if we can count on me. Do you know what it is like not being able to count on your own body? Not knowing, day to day, if you are going to be able to just fucking live without something you can’t control coming at you and taking another piece of you away from yourself?”

“No, I don’t.” Merlin’s greatest asset is his mind and the thought of not being able to count on it being there when he needs it to be terrifies him to his very core. He can understand how in a moment he could make a rash decision and see that suicide was a preferable alternative. But that did not mean that he wanted Eggsy to see it as one. 

“Good, and I hope you never do cause it is fucking shite, Merlin. All I could see was this, this fucking room and me sitting here day after day, fucking being useless, and losing the job that finally gave my life some meaning, allowed me to take care of the people I care about, that brought me a fucking _family_ , yeah? And I couldn’t fucking take it one more second.

“Harry knows, he understands, which is why I can usually stand for him to see me when I am on my knees puking or passing out or fucking now, having seizures. I lost it Merlin, truly, but I know I got people counting on me to be here, and I hope that we can figure this out. Maybe it is time to get a second opinion.”

“Harry said much the same thing, and I am inclined to agree.”

“I ain’t saying nothing about Doc Gipson. He’s aces, he is, and I am not questioning his ability to treat me, but a fresh pair of eyes could help. I might go across the pond to Statesmen, see what their medical people have to say.”

“Not a half bad idea. I will consider it and talk it over with Gipson. Keep it between you and me for right now though. I doubt we could spare Harry for that long of a trip and he will lose his shit if he thinks you are going without him.”

“Yeah, no problem. Don’t want to listen to him bitch about it anyway,” Eggsy says, a faint smile on his face. “Listen, I am sorry about all that earlier. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s good to hear, but I am still keeping someone in your room until I feel a little better about it, so make sure you’re a good boy and eat your vegetables until I say.”

“Sure. Could you send me something to do though? I am going to go mental with nothing to keep me busy.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Merlin walks out, heading to his office, and feeling marginally better about Eggsy. He still doesn’t know how he is going to handle the Harry issue, but being able to keep a nurse or orderly in the room at all times means that Harry will be under watch as well. 

Eggsy going to Statesmen for a second opinion would be an option, he thinks as he walks, it would get Eggsy away from Harry and give Merlin someone to back up his findings that had no dog in the race, but that would also air Harry and Eggsy’s private matters to people that they may not want it aired to. Harry isn’t really Merlin’s main concern, but he is still is one despite what he has done, but Eggsy deserves to understand what information he will be giving out by bringing another set of eyes into this. 

As he sits back down as his desk Islode brings him a sheath of papers. 

“Someone on our watch list will be in Beijing tomorrow night for a soirée and has reached out to one of our agent’s aliases with an invitation.”

“Who and who?”

“Top page,” she answers, tapping the sheets with one blood red fingernail.

“Thomas Finch. I thought he had died during V-Day.”

“We thought so too, all intel had pointed to it without actually pointing us to a body, but it looks like he was just lying low and waiting to see what power vacuums turned up. He stepped into two.”

“How did he do that without us noticing?”

She shrugs. “We thought he had died on V-Day, we were not monitoring his name or past associates as we were prior to Valentine. Don’t worry, we are now, and we have already reassessed who we stopped monitoring after V-Day. We don’t want anyone else slipping through our fingers.”

Merlin looks back at the paper.

“Oh, and he is inviting Henry DeVere to join him? I suppose that since he didn’t die as reported he is hoping Mr. DeVere did not as well?”

“From the wording of the letter, page two, enclosed with the invitation to the party, Mr. Finch is hoping to have time for them to get ‘reacquainted.’”

“Ryence is not going to be pleased, but I might be able to use this. One of our recruits, Jamie, has not had an off grounds mission with a senior agent yet. Ask him and Ryence to met me in my office at four.”

As expected, Harry is _livid_.

“You expect me to go on a mission with a recruit while Eggsy is in medical? I haven’t even seen him today.”

“I have and he is doing much better. We discussed the,” Merlin cuts his eyes to Jamie who is sitting there looking as if he was anywhere but in a room with Merlin and the former Galahad going toe to toe, “unpleasantness this morning, and he should be out of medical soon.”

Harry’s voice lowered to a growling whisper. “You are calling Eggsy taking a knife to his own neck unpleasant? And what gives you the right to discuss Eggsy’s medical records with Gipson.”

Merlin matched his tone to Harry’s. “For one, I seem to remember another arsehole agent doing far more moronic things than that, and Eggsy gave me the right long before you came back. Who the fuck else did he have?”

“Don’t you go pretending you give a damn about him,” Harry said, seething.

“I am going to ignore that statement, not because I know that you are mad, but because I know you are the biggest fucking arsehole I have ever met. But you will go on this assignment. You have been bitching ever since Sweden that you should be allowed to go on more, well now you are. So you will go, you will fuck Finch if needed, you will plant bugs wherever you can, and you will make it an educational experience for Jamie and evaluate him as a candidate, or you can take your sorry arse home for good. Maybe you can work on learning cables or something since you have yet to knit anything with them that didn’t look like a fucking cat just hacked it up.”

Harry’s face goes red. “You dare?”

“You bet I fucking do,” Merlin replies and then completely collapses into hysterical laughter. He figures he can be forgiven. As Harry often says, it’s been a very emotional day.

Harry looks affronted before he cracks a small, tepid smile. 

“I know I am being ridiculous, but this is atrocious timing, Merlin.”

“Mission first, you know that as well as I do.”

He sighs. “I do. I am going home to pack.” He turns to Jamie. “I would suggest to you that you spend the next few hours learning your cover and begging the tailors at the shop to teach you anything they can about passing as someone’s valet. You will be under a microscope from me, and our target, at all times.” He turns back to Merlin. “If I am needed before we leave tomorrow, once I return from packing, I will be with Eggsy. Good evening.”

Merlin watches him leave and then watches Jamie walk out after him, reading his mission brief and looking like he was heading to the chopping block, which is possible. 

He sits down at his desk, pulls open a drawer and pulls a bottle of whiskey out, taking a drink straight from the bottle. After tomorrow, nothing will be the same. 

—————

Harry knocks on Eggsy’s door and waits for the muffled _come in_ before entering. Eggsy looks up, sees it’s Harry and looks embarrassed. 

“Before you go getting ideas, don’t forget Cedric is here as our chaperone.”

 _Bloody buggering fuck,_ Harry thinks, he _had_ forgotten that Eggsy had his own maid in waiting for now. 

“He will just have to content himself by watching me make sheep’s eyes at you,” Harry replies, kissing Eggsy knuckles and setting down the flowers he brought.

“I assure you, I’ve seen worse,” Cedric’s deep baritone grumbles from the corner where he is sitting, reading a book and scribbling on a notepad. 

“For me?” Eggsy asks, batting his eye lashes. 

“No other. I also brought some more of the vitamin powder Dr. Gipson wanted you to take.” Harry sets a small baggie down next to the flowers. He takes Eggsy’s hand again and sits down on the edge of the bed. His eyes drop to the bandage on Eggsy’s neck. “Would you like to talk about this morning.”

Eggsy’s hand grips his tighter. “Not much to say. It’s like I told Merlin, I just saw everything I love, that means something to me, being taken away and I guess I went mental for a mo.’”

“ _Everything_ you love? That means something to you?” Harry stiffens.

“Harry, hey, you know what I mean, you’ve been here before.”

“I do, but that was before I had you as I do now. _You_ are what gives my life meaning now, not Kingsman, and I had rather hoped that I was important enough to be the same for you in a small way.” Harry pulls his hand out of Eggsy’s, or at least tries to.

“No, we ain’t doing this. You would have reacted the same way if you had been facing this when you just started in Kingsman. Fuck, you can’t tell me that you didn’t lose it a little when Merlin told you that you would never be an agent again, you fucking can’t.”

Harry thinks about that night when his sister was on his mind and the bottle of pills seems like an excellent chaser to the bottle of whiskey he had been working on. He doesn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought. You are enough Harry, but while you were dead Kingsman was the last piece of you that I had, and it is the first thing in my entire shitty life that I earned, yeah? I was taking care of the people I love with it. All I could think of was what would happen to me? To _them_?”

“You will always have a place here, Eggsy.”

“Merlin said that too, and I believe you guys. Hell, I trust both of you with my life on the regular so I guess I can trust you with them as well. But you understand, Harry, right? Cause if you don’t maybe I am going crazy.”

“I do, darling. I apologize for overreacting, I am just a little on edge between this morning and the mission I am leaving on tomorrow.”

“What mission?”

“One of my old marks, who we thought died during V-Day, has invited me to Beijing and is looking to get _reacquainted_ with my alias Henry DeVere. Since he moves in a lot of circles we need to keep a hand in, Merlin as decided that I need to indulge him.”

“Reacquainted as in…?”

“As in any way he would like,” Harry says, stroking a thumb over Eggsy’s knuckles, not meeting his eyes. “I, well, I will understand if you want to yell at me as retribution for the way I acted when you went to Tilde. Especially since the fact is I will most likely be sleeping with the mark, whereas you were not with Tilde.”

“Thought makes me fucking sick, Harry, but the job is the job, I wanted you to understand that so I have to understand it myself. Just don’t enjoy it.” Eggsy tries for a smile but it comes across as a grimace.

“I am going to have to rub the Viagra literally on my cock to get it up.”

Eggsy laughs quietly. Even Cedric snorts under his breath in the corner. Eggsy glances over at him and blushes. “I don’t think it works that way, bruv, but I appreciate the sentiment, yeah?”

“And, Eggsy, I know it seems hopeless right now, I know it does. But I am here for you no matter what, my purpose is ensuring that you are always happy and cared for.”

“That’s the thing though, Harry, you shouldn’t have to care for me. I’m fucking twenty-six years old. God. We can discuss it when you get back, though, I don’t want to spend the entire night rehashing something we ain’t got a say in right now.”

Eggsy scoots over on the bed. “What I would like to do is call down to the kitchens and see if they got any of that salted caramel cocoa stuff and some biscuits, and then curl up next to you and watch some telly. Ced, you can come over too, you can curl up on Harry’s other side.”

Harry glances over at Cedric whose head is still bent to the book but whose hand is in the air and making a vulgar gesture. Eggsy laughs uproariously.

“Ced, you are the fucking guv, swear down.”

Harry sneaks out of the room the next morning after kissing Eggsy’s forehead. Merlin and Jamie meet him in the hangar. Jamie looks tired but determined, and Merlin looks stressed.

As Jamie takes their luggage into the plane, Harry places his hand on Merlin’s arm. “Alright, Merlin?” he asks, looking into Merlin’s eyes. He jumps under Harry's hand, barely noticeable, but jumps nonetheless. 

“Merlin?”

“Sorry, wool gathering. Only on my third tea this morning after an all-nighter. But, yes, everything is fine, or it will be.”

“Is there something I can do?”

“No, but thank you, it’s something I have to handle on my own.” Merlin pats Harry’s hand. “Be safe out there and try not to kill Jamie, he’s a good lad.”

“I make no promises, Merlin. Take care Eggsy for me.”

“I plan on it.”

—————

Merlin calls Alistair and then goes to his office to gather up all the reports he has as evidence. Alistair meets him as he is walking out into the hall, falling in step with him instantly.

“Once more into the breach?” Alistair says, a sad smile on his face.

“We are about to destroy people we care about, Ali.”

“I see no other choice.”

“I know,” Merlin says, his face hardening in the face of what he must do. 

He knocks on Eggsy’s door and is surprised when Eggsy opens it himself, a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. 

“Merlin, Ali, got some good news for me?” Eggsy mumbles around the brush. 

Merlin dismisses Cedric who insists that he will be right outside. The man is too intuitive for his own good and Merlin is grateful for it.

“Eggsy, finish cleaning up and then come back in here. We have to talk to you.”

“Sure thing. Alight, Ali?”

Alistair smiles, a small thing, and Merlin wonders if this is the last civil conversation they will have with Eggsy. 

Eggsy goes back into the en-suite while Merlin spreads the papers he brought with them out and sits down. 

—————

“Is this another fucking train track you got me tied to, bruv? Testing my loyalty and shit?”

Merlin is sitting rigid in his chair, his entire upper torso looking like it was carved out of granite covered in a dark jumper. Alistair stands behind him, his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. At Eggsy’s question all the air seems to go out from Merlin and he seems diminished, small. 

“No, Eggsy, this is not a test, this is the truth,” Alistair says.

Eggsy looks down at the papers in front of him, not that he can understand a fucking thing on them without Merlin reading them him like he was five or something, but they are supposed to be proof that he has been sick this entire time because _Harry had been poisoning him_. 

Right, pull the other one, it’s got bells.

“This has got to be a joke. Harry ain’t fucking making me sick. Why the hell would he? Do you think he gets his giggles cleaning up my puke, wondering if I am going to fall over and shit myself when I twitch, have to finish a mission by himself because I fucking pass the fuck out?”

He is seeing red. Literally. He had heard people say _I saw red_ when they was mad, but he didn’t know you could get so mad you actually did. 

“Eggsy, why would we make this up? What do we have to gain?”

“I don’t know, Ali. If this was true why did you wait until he was on a mission to bring this to me? Why not confront him like a fucking man? Or did you figure since I am just some dumb fucking pleb I would just swallow what you are saying without a fight?”

Merlin rubs a hand down his face. “Eggsy, you have trusted me with your life. I have _never_ lied to you or steered you wrong. Harry is my oldest friend, the closest thing to a brother… no, he _is_ a brother. I love him with all my heart, as does Ali, but trust me when I say, he is not well right now. I don’t know if something happened when he was shot in the head, or if this was a natural progression of his tendency towards possessiveness and jealousy, traits you know he has, in spades, but I swear to you this is not a lie.”

“Just give me one good reason why he would do this, Merlin. One.”

“I don’t know, lad. I don’t. He was always a little off the wall with previous lovers, possessive, jealous, but he never harmed them, and it never would have crossed my mind that he would, but he did, he has, harmed you, you have to see that.”

“I don’t have to see fucking shit. Harry _loves me_ , you get me? He fucking loves me. I am his fucking sun, moon, and stars, and he is my fucking universe. He would never hurt me. He is the one taking care of me when I am sick. He’s the one holding me when the pain pills ain’t working, sleeping on the loo floor when I can't stop getting sick everywhere. He is the one that is there every single time I need him and never asks for anything back because that is what love is.”

“Eggsy…” Alistair tries.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Please.”

“I said _get the fuck out_. I am going home. To _my_ home, mine and Harry’s home, and when he gets back, you can have the fucking bollocks to come say this shit to his fucking face. I ain’t going to tell him because I ain’t some underhanded piece of shit talking fuckall behind someone’s back. But we three? We is fucking done, yeah? It’s probably good I am being taken out of the field because I don’t know if I can look at any of you ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that if I left it on this cliffhanger the anger that Harry is getting might be turned on me. Plus, I am excited to get started on the next fic and my non-fic book, so have the ending as well :)
> 
> As usual, point out any edits I missed please. Every time you do, a fic writer gets a kudos.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation between Harry and Eggsy, and the aftermath.

Eggsy blows into the Mews burning with an all-consuming rage. JB runs to him as soon as he is through the door and scooping the tubby little fucker up is the only thing that keeps him from breaking the next thing he can get his hands on. JB settles in his arms immediately as Eggsy presses his nose against him, breathing in his doggie scent, matching his breaths to the calm ones JB is making. He rocks slowly back and forth, trying to calm himself, to settle.

The papers Merlin left with him crinkle in his back pocket and he is enraged all over again.

How fucking dare they accuse Harry of hurting him. Like he would, like Harry isn’t one of the few people Eggsy could count on, besides Ryan and Jamal. Well, and Rox… Eggsy’s heart goes cold. What if Rox is on on this bullshit as well? If she is, she can go take a running jump into the Thames too, and good fucking riddance. 

Fuck it, he is going to prove that there is no way Harry could be the reason he is sick. If Harry was the reason he’s been so fucked up lately, the missing drugs from medical would have to be in the house, yeah? Cause Harry would have had to get them in Eggsy’s system somehow. Eggsy will search the house, because Harry may be able to hide things, but Eggsy has been finding shit that hid in fancy houses long before Kingsman. 

He takes JB into the kitchen and gets him a treat to keep him busy. The last thing he needs is him underfoot while he cases his own home for fucks sake. He’d fall down the goddamn stairs and break his neck, and then Merlin could try to pin that on Harry as well.

That Merlin would turn on Harry and him like that tears Eggsy apart. Not so much for himself really, he’s used to people showing their true faces after a while, but for Harry. When he finds out it will kill him. Eggsy, in case Merlin doesn’t have the bollocks to bring this to Harry, will have to come up with some reason he ain’t speaking to Merlin and Alistair. He’ll figure that out after he proves the bald fucker wrong.  

He starts in the attic, moving slowly and carefully, looking for dust displacement or any signs that the boxes and trunks up there were moved or opened recently. There are none. The dust is thick as a fur coat and the only tracks in it are the ones Eggsy leaves.

He moves down one floor to the bedrooms and loos, going through each one. His fingers skim over the trim on the doors and windows. He knocks at walls looking for a hidden panel, the same for the floors. He looks in cabinets, under towels, in the toilet tanks, under beds, and under carpets. He finds nothing, and he gets more sure of his faith in Harry and his anger towards Merlin in every room he clears.

Until he gets to the basement. 

He is carefully inching around the table Harry sits at while pinning his butterflies like some serial killer, making sure he doesn’t even so much as breathe on the surface because it’s covered in frames, glass, and fragile containers of dead bugs. As he scoots around the table the fumes coming off of God knows what the fuck makes him sneeze, and when Eggsy sneezes, bloody fucking hell does he ever. Harry once said Kingsman should look into weaponizing his nose. He sneezes and doubles over from the force of it. Doubles over right into the fucking table which knocks a small box in the back off. Which means Eggsy is crawling around on the floor chasing after vials with _things_ in them. Which means he notices a wooden box that looks newer and cleaner than all the rest of the shit down here. 

He doesn’t want to open it. He knows Harry; he fucking does. He knows the man he loves and the man who loves him back. He knows that Harry takes better care of him than anyone else in the world ever has. He knows that Harry makes him feel things he ain’t never got to feel before. Safe. Loved. Cherished. Harry makes him feel like Eggsy is someone who is all those things but is also someone who _deserves_ to be all those things. He makes it okay for Eggsy to need someone instead of always being the one that other people need. 

Eggsy may be a recovering pill addict, ex-drug dealing rentboy chav who now kills the people Kingsman tells him to but fuck it all if Harry doesn’t make all that shit just disappear. With Harry Eggsy is just Eggsy. He is not a son, a brother, a best friend, an agent, a protector, or anything. He is Eggsy, the boy that loves Harry and the boy that Harry loves.

And if he opens that box and there are things in there that Merlin said Harry had then he won’t be Eggsy the lover, the beloved, the cherished, and the protected. 

No, if he opens that and Merlin is right he becomes Eggsy the _victim_.

He will be his mum who he always swore, no matter how much he loves the woman, he would never be, blind to the abuse he was living under because it hid behind love and charm. He thinks he is going to be sick, or he is going to scream, or something.

Or something.

He reaches out and pulls the box to him. There is a slight rattling from inside. Bile burns his throat but he forces it back down.

Barely. 

He gently opens the box and looks inside. A quiet sob makes its way up through his throat while he shakes. Inside are bottles. He doesn’t know what they are, but he recognizes some of the names from Merlin’s lists. The list of drugs and chemicals that are missing. The ones that, when administered, would account for every single symptom he has suffered through since the first time vomited til he bled. There is also a small device that looks like it makes pills. 

Eggsy kneels there staring into the box until his knees go numb, and then his legs. 

He kneels there waiting for the numbness to reach his heart.

—————

He takes the box up the stairs and places it on the coffee table, sits down on the couch, and welcomes the fact that JB immediately jumps up to cuddle with him. The dog’s warmth helps to thaw some of the coldness that is in his bones. He takes Merlin’s lists from his back pocket, and because he is a masochist, he matches each name on the lists to each container in front of him.

He hopes, wildly, that maybe they won’t match, maybe they are just some spy shit that Harry just keeps well-hidden in the basement, in a box, in a dusty back corner because of _reasons_. They match though, all of them, and the bottle with no name on it is full of what looks to be Eggsy’s pain medication he was taking when he broke his leg. 

Harry, the man he loves, who he trusted, something that does not come easily to Eggsy, has done this to him. Consciously. Premeditated. With sound mind and body. 

He looks at his watch. Harry is due home in ten hours. 

—————

Harry is restless on the plane ride home. Jamie, as usual with the young, or perhaps just overworked candidates, is sleeping on one of the sofas on the plane, while Harry drinks and jiggles about.

Something, he doesn’t know what, but _something,_ is brewing back home. His intuition, which has never failed him in thirty plus years tells him that he needs to be careful, to watch. He admits he might have taken this with Eggsy too far. In his mania to keep him close, to keep him Harry’s, he might have overplayed his hand. 

Sickness and fainting is fine, that can be chalked up to a great number of things. But seizures? Those will prompt a closer look, if they haven’t already while Harry has been gone and in looking closer and finding nothing, perhaps they will look for _anything_ which could, and would, show the low level waste products that will be in Eggsy’s blood. 

No, he will have to step back for a while, even if that means Eggsy going back into the field and him being the doddering old fool of a boyfriend again. Unless of course, he could convince Eggsy that a break from Kingsman would be good, they could travel. Harry could be the rock that Eggsy leans on during his recovery.

A possibility. 

But first he has to get home and see what exactly is going on. Assess and adapt. 

He taps his glasses. “Merlin?”

“Nope, Ryence, just me,” Islode answers, too chipper to be seemly this early in the morning. Honestly.

“Is Merlin available?”

“He was until Percival dragged him out of here by the proverbial hair three hours ago. Percival not to bother him unless the manor is burning down, and only then if we could not get his computers out.”

“Sounds like him. Could you patch me through to Eggsy’s room then?”

“Yep, just a mo.’” He hears her tapping away at keys. “No, I can’t, they discharged him earlier, so I guess there is no one here for you to talk to besides me.”

“Ah,” Harry says, trying desperately to think of a way to get the fuck off the line as a gentleman would, of course.

“Don’t worry, Ryence, I like you enough, but I don’t fancy talking to you at four in the morning anymore than you care to. Since Merlin isn’t here I am going to schedule your debrief for tomorrow morning when he will be back and can join you and Arthur. A car will be ready at the manor.”

“You are a treasure, Islode. Thank you.”

Harry is surprised that Eggsy is home already. He had expected them to keep him for tests but he is not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He got lucky and he will do exactly what he decided, back off, let things settle, and plant the retirement seed in Eggsy’s brain. Eggsy makes a lovely trainer, and it will allow him to keep a hand in, so to speak, and it will allow Harry to keep an eye on him without him having to watch Eggsy faff about being an agent. 

He pours himself one last scotch as the plane descends, knocking it back, before shaking Jamie awake. 

He spends the ride home writing his thoughts on Jamie’s performance and the mission in his moleskine while they are still fresh. Finch, as they suspected, is right there in the thick of things, using his shipping company to move arms and drugs around for the highest paying thug. The party, if you could call a group of rich men and their eye candy kissing the arses of drug dealers and crime lords a party, was a fount of intel. Harry must have planted bugs on at least five people Kingsman had been loosely watching besides Finch, a successful mission all around, and while not as exciting as a gunfight, still left Harry with the buzz of a job well done. He has missed this feeling. Perhaps with this, and the Tilde mission, under his belt, Arthur would be a little more amendable to letting him off the handler leash now and then. He will talk to Merlin first. If Merlin backs him, Arthur will back him, he knows it.

The pleasurable post-mission buzz makes him wonder just how good Eggsy feels. Will he be sleeping in the bedroom upstairs, warm, pliant and, hopefully, nude? Harry would love to put his hands all over him and reacquaint himself with the sounds Eggsy makes when his cock is halfway down Harry’s throat. He feels like he hasn’t touched Eggsy in ages. 

Something that he should remedy post-haste.

The cab drops him at the front door and he quietly lets himself in, leaving his luggage in the foyer and slipping out of his shoes. He walks quietly through the house, shedding Ryence as he goes, his suit jacket folded over the back of a dining room chair, his lighter and signet ring in the pocket, his holster on the kitchen counter. He will be pissed at himself later when he wakes up, but for now he can’t be fucked to care. 

He inspects the contents of the pantry and realizes he is unimpressed with food at the moment and heads into the living room for one last glass of scotch before he goes in search of Eggsy. 

Eggsy, who when he turns into the living room, is standing up, facing him in his glasses, oxfords, trousers, and shirt, looking like he was just about to head into the manor. Eggsy, whose face is pale and pinched, his eyes red-rimmed and raw. Eggsy, who steps one step to the side revealing…

 _The box_. The box that Harry planned to get rid of this week. The box whose contents were going back to their homes at the manor. The box that Eggsy should have never found unless he had been looking for it. 

Something definitely had been brewing, a storm that threatened devastation to everything it touched, and it just made landfall.

—————

Eggsy watches as the surprised smile on Harry’s face morphs into disbelief, into horror, into panic. 

For a moment, neither of them move. Neither speak. Harry’s eyes meet Eggsy’s and he can tell that Harry is searching his face to see what this means, what Eggsy knows, as his mind tries to think of something to mitigate the fallout that he is powerless to stop. 

“I know, Harry.”

Harry startles at his voice, taking an involuntary step back before his face completely shuts down.

“I know about this,” he points to the box, “and how they are the reason for everything I have been going through. Merlin knows too. And Alistair. They tried to tell me yesterday, show me these,” he rattles the papers in his hand, “as proof. All these harmless drugs and Kingsman created substances used on marks to incapacitate, sicken, _kill_. Was that what this was all leading up to, Harry? Was you going to kill me, eventually? Was your sick fucking desire to own me finally getting the best of you and you making sure that only you would ever touch me again?”

“Be reasonable, Eggsy, I would never…”

“Never what, Harry? _Never what?_ ” Eggsy yells, the papers crumpling within his hand as it fists. “Never planned to hurt me? Never planned to kill me?”

“I never meant to hurt you, you have to believe that.”

“Harry, I have been sick as fuck, wishing I was dead, thinking about doing it myself, and thanking the fucking heavens I had you. Now I find out that this whole fucking mess is _because_ of you. You said you fucking loved me,” Eggsy’s voice breaks and he hates it, “and yet you poison me, and what, get your fucking kicks put of watching me puke?”

“I wasn’t making you sick Eggsy, those,” Harry waves his hand at the box, “are all medicines to _help_ you. I don’t know what Merlin has been telling you but he is _wrong_ , I swear. I would never harm you, you know that. Who has been there for you when no one else has? Me!” Harry jabs his finger into his own chest. “I take care of you at the expense of taking care of myself, and this is how you thank me? False accusations and wild stories from Merlin, the man who couldn’t wait to take you out of the field.”

Eggsy laughs, he really does, because he knew Harry wouldn’t come out and admit it, he is fair too self-important to do such a thing, but he didn’t expect him to outright deny it.

“You have got to be joking, bruv. You’re going to stand here and tell me that you took medicine that you had to help me, put it in a box and hid it downstairs? Are you fucking mental?”

“I didn’t want you to see them. When you were at your sickest you were easily triggered and upset, I just wanted you to feel normal, Eggsy, not be reminded of your sickness. I had planned on finding a way of disposing them when we knew you were feeling better.”

“Bullshit, Harry. Have enough respect for me, enough love for me, to explain why you did all this. Why would you do this to me when you proclaimed to love me? I was your reason for living, remember?”

“You are, you are my reason for living, and I swear to you, I was trying to _help_ you, to take care of you. That was, _is_ , all that is important to me, taking care of you.”

“Yeah, some fucking care taker. Dean at least left off when I was fucking sick.” Eggsy shifts his weight and he sees Harry’s eyes flick down to the suitcases on the floor.

“What the fuck is this? You decided you knew what was going on before you even spoke to me?”

“Yeah, the fucking evidence is damning don’t you think?”

“I don’t see any evidence. All I see is someone who is supposed to be my best friend filling your head with a bunch of lies. All of those medicines treat your symptoms.”

Eggsy crosses his arms and laughs. “Now that, that’s true cause I looked it up myself, but they also, when you stick them with the other non-medicinal stuff in the box, cause the symptoms as well.”

“I had those compounds because I was experimenting with them for use on marks.”

“Oh, and I was your fucking guinea pig?”

“For fucks _sake_ , Eggsy, I am not to blame for you being sick. I am not to blame for you washing out as an agent. Maybe it was just meant to be. But I can guarantee I’ll be the only one who gives a damn about you when Kingsman kicks you out.”

“See, you were just telling me how they would never do that. You got so many lies twisted up in that fucking mangled skull of yours that you don’t even know if you’re coming or going anymore do you? Well, I know where I am going at least, right the fuck out the door. I’ll leave it to Kingsman to deal with you.” 

Harry’s face goes white, whether it at the prospect of Eggsy leaving or Kingsman finding out, Eggsy is unsure. He certainly doesn’t believe Harry gives two fucks about him after all this so he is banking on him losing his place at Kingsman. 

“Eggsy, don’t do this. Just give me tonight. We can have Merlin over, all of us can talk, we can get to the bottom of this.”

“There ain’t no bottom to get to, Harry, though you’re welcome to talk it out with Merlin after I’m gone.” Eggsy picks up his two bags and walks past Harry out of the living room and into the hall and foyer. 

Harry grabs his arm. 

Eggsy’s whole body is on instant alert, his focus sharp as the blade in his shoe, and he realizes his instincts are treating Harry as an enemy which, Eggsy realizes with a fresh fissure in his heart, he is now. 

“I’d take your hand off my arm if I was you.”

“Stop being so fucking dramatic. We can talk about this. After all I’ve done for you, surely I deserve at least that.”

“Fuck you, I don’t owe you shit.” He tries to shake Harry’s grip off and he feels it tighten.

“What are you going to do, Eggsy, when you walk out that door? Go back to being some little gutter whore, deal some drugs, steal a telly or two? Maybe you can scrounge up Dean’s old dogs and run the gang for a bit. It’s going to be expensive to keep your mother and the boys in their respective homes without Kingsman’s pay.”

“Arthur won’t kick me out, Merlin won’t kick me out. None of this is my fault, Harry, and even if you’ve permanently fucked me up, I will always have a place there, which is more than I can probably say for you.”

Harry spins him around so that his back is against the wall. Harry pins him there with his left forearm across his chest and looms over him. The look on his face is what he imagines the bigots in the church saw right before he drove a stake through them. 

Eggsy is frightened for a split second before he remembers he is just as fucking dangerous.

He knocks Harry’s arm up and off of him while driving his head forward into Harry’s. Harry stumbles backwards his hands flying to his face and Eggsy takes the advantage, pushing him back again, driving his fist into Harry’s gut causing him to double over. Eggsy straightens, looking down at Harry where he is bent over and making awful gasping sounds.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, Harry. Now let me be.”

“Eggsy,” Harry gasps out, “please…”

Eggsy turns to go back to where he dropped his luggage when Harry pressed him to the wall, just as he is about to bend to pick it up he realizes the room has gone quiet behind him. He throws himself to the right just as a Harry reaches for him and misses. Unfortunately, when he moved he misjudged the force and he goes down on his arse like a first week fucking candidate, leaving himself open for Harry to pounce, which he does, coming straight down on top of Eggsy and pinning his wrists above his head. Eggsy struggles, bucking his hips up to try to dislodge Harry, but Harry has been doing this a lot longer than Eggsy so he doesn’t budge. He slams Eggsy wrists against the floor. 

“Be reasonable, Eggsy, for fuck’s sake!”

“Fuck you, Harry. Let me the fuck up, there ain’t no way we are talking our way through this.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, darling, not until I know you are clear headed.” He fiddles above Eggsy’s head and Eggsy hears his watch arming. 

 _Fuck this_ , he thinks. He knocks the heel of his shoe until he hears the blade dislodge, kicks his foot up and drags the blade across Harry’s back, light enough to pierce his shirt and skin, but not enough to cut anything major.

Harry kneels up, falling to the side as he does so. His eyes are wide, scared. Eggsy scrambles back.

“You would see me dead? Over _this_?”

Eggsy eyes prick and his breath catches in his chest. “This blade isn't coated with the toxin, Harry, because no, I would never see you dead.”

Harry’s eyes flutter. 

“What it is coated with is the same agent that is in our stun darts so it’s will knock you out pretty good. Made the blade special last night, in case this went to shit. It's just taking a little while longer cause it ain’t going directly into the blood stream, yeah?”

Harry reaches his hand out to Eggsy, and he goes to him because he can’t not. He kneels down and lifts Harry into his arms. Harry’s hand reaches up and touches his cheek, it comes away wet. Eggsy didn’t realize he was crying. He didn’t know he had it in him to cry any more.

“Please, if you believe nothing else, darling, believe this. I love you more than anything and any mistakes I made is because of that.” 

Harry’s eyes flutter once more and he slides into unconsciousness. Eggsy looks down at Harry, at the face he has loved for so long, first as a savior and then as a lover, and wonders how the fuck everything had come to this, to him made sick by the man he loves, his job in question, his home no longer a haven, and his heart shattered. 

A low moan comes out of his chest. A sharp, broken thing that tears itself out of his body, ripping through his chest, snagging his heart, a mortal wound, on the way up, slicing his tongue, his gums, leaving him choking blood and pain as he clutches Harry and cries. 

No, it isn’t even crying. It is the sobbing, mourning, keening grief of someone who has lost everything. He hadn’t cried like this when Harry had died, but he did not have the memories he has now. He did not know what his name sounded like when Harry said it during an orgasm. He did not know how safe he could feel when he was wrapped in a hug after a mission gone bad. He did not know what it was like to have a home that he wanted to come home to.

Now he does. He knows all these things and losing them is the deepest loss he has ever known. He screams himself hoarse with it. 

When he quiets, he taps his glasses, accessing Merlin's private channel.

“Eggsy?” Merlin asks, his voice tentative.

“Merlin, I need your help,” he says, barely above a whisper.

—————

Merlin stands outside Harry’s room listening to the quiet sobbing that comes from within. He has often been torn between wanting to punch and comfort Harry but never to this degree. 

He won’t go in the room until he knows which one he will do when he sees him. 

He hears footsteps behind him and turns to see Eggsy coming up the hall. He’s in his suit and from this far away he looks like his old self, but as he draws closer Merlin can see his red eyes and defeated line of his body. He stops next to Merlin and by the pain written all over the boy’s face Merlin knows he can hear Harry sobbing as well.

“Eggsy,” he says quietly, “is there something you needed?”

Eggsy laughs and looks at him, his voice and eyes are ice. “Yeah, bruv, for this to be a bad fucking dream. Can it be a bad fucking dream?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“I was coming to tell you that I have talked to Arthur and I am going to Statesman for a little while. Let their doctors look me over, help them with training, or on some missions, or something. I just can’t be here right now.”

“Surely, now that we know…”

“Merlin, as a friend, please shut the fuck up. I _can’t_ be here. I can’t be here in the manor, I can’t be here in London, and I can’t fucking even be around myself. I don’t trust any of you lot right now and I trust myself even less.”

“I am sorry.”

“I ain’t looking for apologies, mate. I know you, the Doc, and Alistair all had nothing to do with this mess, but we did too, you know? We all missed it. We all looked at Harry and me and never even saw it coming, and that scares the fuck out of me, swear the fuck down. Because if people who have known him for thirty years can’t see it, and me who has sworn from the first time I saw Dean hit my mum that I would never be a victim, couldn’t see it, what the fuck else are we missing?”

“Eggsy…” Harry calls from inside the room. Both look towards the door and Merlin catches Eggsy reaching for the handle before he stops himself. 

“I told Arthur that I didn’t want him killed or nothing,” Eggsy chuckles and Merlin has to wonder if Eggsy has an inkling as to how close to the truth he is. Harry has been involved with Kingsman for over thirty years. If he cannot be kept in the fold, or trusted, which is a definite no at this point, _something_ would have to be done. “I just want him to get some help. He needs more than a month of mandatory weekly therapist visits which are just thinly veiled fucks. He needs help, and fucking Kingsman owes it to him to give it to him. Maybe if we would have taken better care of him when he came back to us we wouldn’t be standing here today, yeah? Arthur agrees with me and has decided that Harry will go to some place she called The Estate.”

“Good, that’s very good to hear. It’s a health facility for people in our line of work. The staff are vetted, some former Kingsman and MI6 themselves.”

“Can they help him?”

“Hopefully. People go there if they have a breakdown on the job, or they lose themselves in long term undercover work, or, like Harry, just lose themselves. The doctors are top of the line, Eggsy. If Harry will let them, I think they will be able to.”

“Good. Well, I got to go say good bye to mum, Dais and Ryan and Jamal. You all will keep an eye on them while I am gone, right?”

“Are you leaving so soon?” 

“Yeah, already said goodbye to Rox and Alistair. Rox cried all over my fucking suit,” Eggsy says pointing to a damp spot. “Alistair shook my hand and looked serious, not much of a change really.”

“No, not much. And yes, Eggsy, we will watch over your family. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Statesman will be able to get in touch with me if I am needed, and they all will too, but I am going to ask that Kingsman leave me be. I need to forget about this,” he twirls his finger around, encompassing the manor and everything in it, “for a while. I need to figure out who I am as an agent, who I am without _him_. I need to trust myself and Kingsman before I can come home, and I don’t know how long that will be.” Eggsy blinks furiously, looking anywhere but Merlin.

Merlin pulls Eggsy to him as Eggsy starts crying again. 

“Fuck,” Eggsy says, muffled against his jumper, “I thought I was done crying.”

“I know I’m not, so I don’t expect you will be for some time.”

He hugs Eggsy for a few moments longer and then holds him out at arms length. “You’ll call if you need anything?”

“Yes, Merlin.”

“Good, now go before I regret that hug,” Merlin says trying for some of his regular gruffness. 

Eggsy nods once and walks away. He gets five steps away and turns back. “Tell him that I love him, Merlin, because it’s true. Through all of this I still love him even though I wish I didn’t. Let him know that, and tell him to get better because someday I will be back, and I will want to talk to him, and I can only do that if he’s better.” Eggsy wipes his face with a handkerchief. Merlin pretends not to notice the HH embroidered on the corner. “I don’t regret it neither. I don’t know if I would do it all over again, but I don’t regret loving him, only that it blinded me.”

Eggsy turns back around, and before Merlin can answer, runs down the hall. 

Merlin takes one, two, three deep breaths, reaches for the handle of the door, and goes in to Harry. 

Later that night, after Eggsy has taken off for the States, after Harry has been tearfully transported to The Estate, after Merlin has gone through, with the help of Alistair, Harry’s house, packing his luggage, throwing out food, and closing the house for the foreseeable future, he falls to his knees in the middle of the kitchen while fixing himself some fucking cheese toast of all things, and sobs. Alistair runs through the flat in his socks, almost going arse over tits as he turns the corner to the kitchen, as he comes to throw his arms around Merlin and join him.

Eggsy and Harry are both still alive. They will both get well in their own respective ways, and even though they don’t thank Merlin for it, he knows had he not done this, not ripped them apart at the seams, one or both would far worse shape than they are today. 

But that doesn’t take away the feeling that he betrayed his closest friend, that he ruined the love of two people he cares for, that he said goodbye to one and had the other committed even as Harry begged him not to. The last image Merlin has of Harry is the orderly sedating him while he fought another one off. He knows it had to be done, but it doesn’t stop him from hating himself for it. 

He hopes that one day all of them can forgive the other ones for the role they each played in this fucking mess. He hopes one day they can each forgive themselves.

—————

**ONE YEAR LATER**

Merlin makes his way through Avalon, nodding a greeting at various techs and handlers, slowly making his way to his office. He stops by Elaine’s desk to find out how Alistair’s mission is going and then continues. Once there, he sits down at his desk, hits the correct key sequence to unlock his system and settles in to start his day.

“Bruv, if I was a snake I would’ve bitten you.”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” he yells out, practically overturning his tea on to his clipboard, and spinning around. 

“Fucking hell, Merlin, are you wearing a waistcoat? How am I the fucking knob wearing a jumper now?”

Eggsy is sitting in the corner of his office, wearing a grey jumper and navy trousers. He looks good, older than what the year gone could account for, but older in a good way, more confident.

He looks down at his black waistcoat and matching tie, smoothing his hand down his front, feeling a touch self-conscious.

“It’s, well, it’s mine and Alistair’s anniversary today, and if he gets home from India in enough time I plan to take him out and propose.”

“Shut the fuck up. Congratulations, mate, give us a hug.”

Eggsy stands and pulls him into a hug. Merlin is still slightly off kilter by his appearance and it takes a moment before he hugs back.

“Not happy to see me then?” Eggsy asks.

“No, of course I am, just caught me off guard is all.”

“Yeah, I could see how you would be a little preoccupied and all.”

“Yes, a little. Back for a visit?” Merlin asks as the both retake their seats and he has called for a tea tray.

“No, I am, if there is still a place for me, back for good I think. Got a lot of thinking done over the past year, had a blast with Statesmen and all, but it’s time to come home, yeah? Besides, looks like I have a wedding to go to.”

“He hasn’t said yes yet.”

“Like he’s going to say ‘no,’ Merlin.”

The tray comes in and Eggsy fills him on all the “fucking sick” missions he had while he was stateside. 

“If you were having so much fun I am surprised you came back.”

“Look, those guys are aces, they are, but they ain’t you lot, and they ain’t Ry and Jamal, and they sure the fuck ain’t English. The tea is rank, bruv, that was enough to bring me home. Most them make it with tea bags and then let the bag sit in the tea the entire time they drink it. Made me fucking gag. And don’t even get me started on the food. I mean grits, who the hell eats something named after dirt?”

“I’m touched.”

“You should be.” Eggsy sets his tea cup down and takes a breath. “How’s Harry?”

“Better. So much so they are letting him out next month. Well, I say letting him out, his staying there has been voluntary for the past six months. He felt he had some more work to do.”

“So you’ve seen him?”

“I visit him every week. The first couple of months were not so good. He refused to admit there was an issue, kept accusing me of destroying his life, and basically being an all around arsehole, but then something just clicked and he has been improving ever since.”

“Do you think I could see him?”

Merlin arches his brow. “Why do you want to do that, lad? Will you stomp in there and yell at him?”

“Six months ago I might’ve stomped in there and knifed him in the gut, but now, I just want to talk to him, to see him. I want to hear what this whole fucking mess was about from him.”

“I can call him and his doctors to find out if they think that is wise, but understand, we will abide by their decision.”

“I do. But until then, tell me all the good bits I’ve missed over the past twelve months.”

“Let’s see,” Merlin rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Rumors are that our Lancelot is romantically involved with Arthur.”

“Shut up, you’re lying,” Eggsy says, his eyes wide.

“I am, but it sounded good, didn’t it?”

—————

Harry is sitting in his room reading an article on a new species of butterfly that was just found when his phone rings.

“Hart.”

“Harry, good afternoon. Did you get the article I emailed you this morning?”

“I was just reading it now, and a happy anniversary to you and Alistair.”

“I’m proposing tonight if the arse makes it back from India in time.”

“Merlin, that is excellent news, congratulations,” Harry says with a slight pain in his heart. 

“I was actually calling you to ask if you would like company.”

“Has Alistair finally come around?”

“No he hasn’t, but he’s getting there. He, and Roxy, can now say your name without looking murderous. Baby steps I think.”

“I hardly blame them, after all I…”

“And what did your therapist say about that?”

Harry sighs. “That I must allow others to forgive me while forgiving myself, and that I cannot keep living in the past while trying to move forward. She also says quite a few others that I am working on listening to, but it’s easy to say and hard to do.”

“I know, we are all doing the same thing. Forgiving you, forgiving ourselves, moving forward. It’s a process, we have to work through it, and we all have to give the rest of us time to work through it as well.”

“Yes, of course, it’s sickening how right you are all the time, some would even call it rude.”

“By some, do you mean you?”

“Perhaps,” Harry says, smiling. He has never been so thankful for Merlin as he has been this past year. It was a slow process, but the past six months has seen them return almost to their old selves. “Are you going to put me out of my misery and tell me who in the blazes is requesting to see me?”

“Eggsy.”

“Egg… I’m sorry, did you say Eggsy?”

“Yes, he was sitting in my office waiting for me when I came in, scared me so bad I thought I would shit my new trousers, on my anniversary no less, but yes, he would like to come see you tomorrow if you think that is alright.”

“I… I think it would be wise for me to talk to Dr. Belacose first, could you ring me back this evening?”

“I agree. Say seven-ish?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The next day Harry is standing at the door of the visitors room looking through the small window in the door. Eggsy stands there, sunlight glinting off his golden hair, his shoulders broad underneath the jacket he wears and, God help Harry, his hips still trim and small, and his arse still so gorgeous wars could be fought over it. Harry thought that over the year he had romanticized Eggsy, built him up in his mind as a specimen of perfection that no human could be, but seeing Eggsy as he stands not knowing he is being observed Harry realizes that the Eggsy in his head pales when compared to the real thing. He is still so lovely it’s painful and he still, even after everything that has happened, radiates goodness. 

That is how Harry knows he doesn’t even deserve to speak to him, he shouldn’t taint Eggsy’s light with his dark… 

 _Forgive yourself, allow others to forgive you at their own pace._  

Right. 

He opens the door quietly so he can look at that most beloved profile one more time. Harry clears his throat.

—————

Eggsy waits in the visitors room. His heart is racing, his knees feel like they might give out, and he is as scared as he was when he walked through Harry’s front door after he refused to shoot JB. He looks out the window wondering if Harry had found any new butterflies in the gardens that surround the building when he hears a throat being cleared.

“Eggsy.”

His eyes close for a second. Harry’s voice brings multiple motions up. Love, because he still loves the man, he always will. Anger, but that is mostly under control. Joy, because Harry had survived. He had faced his demons, from what Merlin has said, and survived.

Eggsy turns and looks at Harry for the first time in over a year. It has not been an easy one for Harry at all. The gray that was equally threaded through the rich brown is the main color of his hair now, but it looks good on him, Eggsy thinks, the dark brown of his cardigan makes it gleam in the sunlight. His face has some more lines in it which isn’t surprising since he is almost sixty, and there is a sadness to his eyes that Eggsy thinks might be permanent. He doesn’t know, he will have to see him more to tell, and Eggsy hopes they will see more of each other. 

“Harry,” he says, smiling. “Thank you for allowing me to come.”

Harry looks distinctly wrong-footed, unsure of the situation. The Harry of a year ago would have hid that in order to maintain the illusion of control. This Harry seems less inclined to care. “Please, sit,” he says, waving a hand to the couch and chairs provided. “I have to admit, I am surprised to see you here.”

“Surprised to be here, bruv, not going to lie. But it was time,” Eggsy says as he takes the other end of the couch that Harry sits on. 

“Time?”

“Time to heal, time to come home.”

“Ah, yes, Merlin had mentioned that you were working for Statesmen now. I trust they are treating you well?”

“I was over there while I was getting my head together. After everything,” Eggsy looks at Harry, seeing if he will meet his eyes. He does. “I didn’t trust anyone, much less myself. I had to get away from everything here. Find out who I was as a man, as an agent, because I’ve had been wrapped up in you since the minute you pulled me out of Holborn that I forgot who Eggsy was.”

Harry looks at his hand which is nervously plucking at his khaki trousers. “Yes, I was wondering if we could discuss that.”

“I was hoping we would, yeah?”

“Yes, but first, tea.” The Harry he still loves, damn him to hell, smiles at him.

“Yes, Harry.”

Once the tea has been brought, fixed, and the biscuits sampled, Harry speaks again.

“I think it only fair that you say what you would like to.”

“Alright, yeah.” Eggsy pulls a handkerchief out and rests it on his knee. He’s going to cry at some point, he knows he is, because he’s got Harry sitting right the fuck across from him and he has all these emotions, lover, anger, happiness, and sadness all tangled inside. “Preemptive measures,” he says with a fleeting smile. He lets out a deep breath. He can do this. This what he came home for, closure, the chance to say what he needs to say.

“Before I say the bad shit, let me start with the good shit, yeah? It’s great to see you, Harry. Merlin said you’ve been here even after they said you could go, getting some help and all, and that makes me happy. Happy that you are doing it and happy that you realize you _needed_ it, cause I think that is where we, Kingsman, really hold some of the blame. Galahad was this larger-than-life agent who could always shoulder everything thrown at him and move on. He never asked for help, and we, no matter what the reason, never offered it other than a token requirement that you used to shag your therapist.” Eggsy snorts. “Well done, you.”

Harry doesn’t look amused, just ashamed. “I am equally to blame, I thought I was above needing therapy, it’s only here I have realized how fucked up I really am.”

“We all are fucked up, Harry. But you, even if you took this long, realized that and that's _good_ , yeah? And you’ve stayed and worked on yourself. I am proud of you for that.”

“Thank you, Eggsy,” Harry whispers. He clears his throat. “It’s more than I deserve.”

“Probably, but I am a soft-hearted type.” He gives Harry a small smile. “I’ve spent some time in therapy too. You fucked me up good, you did,” Harry seems to grow smaller, “especially coming from the background I did. You destroyed my trust in everything, everyone. Statesmen doctors couldn’t get me to take any medicine that I did not see them open in front of me and was verified to be the medicine it was supposed to be by another doctor. I am pretty sure Ginger, their Merlin with a slightly more medical twist, she’s the one who saved you, wanted to thump me a good one multiple times. 

“I’m better now too, though not a hundred percent, but I don’t think anyone is ever at top mental health form. But I understand how I turned a blind eye to your possessiveness, your manipulation of me, your jealousy, and I understand a lot better as to why I allowed it even when I recognized it. 

“I do need something from you, though… I need to know _why_ Harry, why you did this to me when you claimed…”

“It was never a claim, Eggsy, if you believe nothing else I ever say, please believe that I did, I _do_ , love you beyond all reckoning,” Harry looks sad that he has to say this, to insist upon it.

“Right, well, then why? I have to understand what the fuck all of this was about. Why you did this to me,” he stops for a moment, breathing slowly, his eyes pricking, “to us?” 

“Did I ever mention my mother to you?”

“Not really.”

“I hated the woman, nearly as much as she hated me. She was cold, and not in the way some mothers are, indifferent but still having a basic maternal instinct. No, when I say she was cold, I mean arctic. There were two of us, myself and my sister, younger than me by five years, and she treated both of us as we were the worst thing that could have happened to her in her life. She married my father for his money, he married her because he was expected to have a beautiful wife that would bear him beautiful heirs. So he married her, he fucked her at least twice because she gave birth to Evelyn and I, and then I am positive he never spoke to her again. He dealt with the running of the estate and my mother dealt with spending the proceeds. 

“From a young age, as far back as I remember, my mother insisted that I be _useful_ , that I serve a _purpose_ , because people who do not serve a purpose or have a use deserve nothing more than to be tossed away like yesterday’s rubbish, or dead. Literally. So I had a list of chores and duties that had to be done daily, besides my schooling when I came of age. I was allowed six hours of sleep a night, and I could stop for meals only. I had one hour of free time during which I was expected to be doing something that was recreational, but still useful. Needless to say, by the time I was fifteen I was fluent in seven different languages. Useful for a Kingsman, so there is that I suppose.

“Jesus, she sounds like a right cunt, Harry.”

“Oh, she was, believe me, and my sister, to escape the constant harassment and beatings which I received, became the very image of her. When I was eighteen my father died and I was expected to take over the running of the estate, to be useful to the family. In other words, keep her and Eve in the lifestyle they were accustomed to. Instead I completely forsook them, joined the army, then Kingsman, and changed my name, disappearing into the world with only the family solicitor knowing where and who, Kingsman excluded, I was. I never spoke to either of them again.

“All of this is to say, and from speaking to my therapist,” Harry rolls his eyes, “ _at length_ about it, I can tell you it sounds weak, is that the hell I put you through stems from my childhood under that woman. My need for a purpose, my need for control, my possessiveness over anything I decided was ‘mine.’

“Coming back from Kentucky I felt like I useless, and as my mother said anyone who is not useful should be dead. And I thought about it too, one night when I had too much whiskey, I thought about my sister and how she had escaped our shared past through a bottle and a handful of pills. I had my own medications after all, and God knows I had the whiskey. 

“When I first got here and was coming to terms with everything I did, have done, I thought that I should have done it that evening and saved everyone the trouble.”

“No, Harry, never. That ain’t never the answer, no matter how good it sounds at the time.”

Harry looks into his face for a moment, his brown eye scanning his and Eggsy knows that he sees that Eggsy had been there too, wishing that the pain would stop, knowing that it could if he wanted it to, and deciding, at least for the next day, to keep moving forward. 

“I know it’s not now, but then, faced with the prospect of being crippled for the rest of my life, never being an agent again, it seemed viable. Merlin giving me the handler position, while I now know it was meant in the most respectful way possible, seemed like a slap in the face. Those who can’t do, handle, yes?”

“Or train,” Eggsy says, remembering the bitterness that sat in the back of his throat at the prospect of training because he was sick. Granted he was sick because of the man sitting in front of him, and had he not… rage chokes him.

 _No_ , Eggsy thinks, _no. I am here to fucking heal and fucking heal I will._

“Just so. But then you needed a place to stay while you recovered from that mission, and I had a purpose again. You needed me. People in the manor stopped to tell me how good it was that I was taking care of you. It felt fantastic. So I wanted to keep doing it. I switched some of your pain pills with placebos, and then I would give you the pain pills back in your tea or food so you would associate the pain receding with me. I made it look like you fell in your flat because I couldn’t stand you not being in my home where I could take care of you as _I_ saw fit. The bruise on your head that day came from me knocking your head against the floor, purposely. I invaded your privacy by watching you in your home because I couldn’t stand not knowing what you were doing and with whom. I made you sick so that I could keep you under my thumb, so that you would need me, so that I could feel good about myself again _,_ and so that you would never leave me.”

Eggsy thought he could hear this, but he can’t. “Fuck,” he says standing up and crossing to the window. Harry does not follow. Good thing, too. He stays seated on the couch, his head down, his hand still plucking at his fucking trousers. “You fucking… _goddamn it_.” He slams his hand down on the window sill. He breathes heavy and for a moment he considers walking out and never coming back. Fucking Harry can shove all his confessions and his forgiveness and his self-reflection straight up his fucking arse and pull it out his throat. And choke on it for good measure. 

 _Fuck_. 

Eggsy does the breathing exercises that bloke Tequila taught him and in a few minutes he is able to look at Harry again. Eggsy sits back down.

Harry clears his throat, still plucking. 

“Would you fucking stop picking at your trousers already, Christ. It’s driving me mental.”

“Sorry. Nervous habit I suppose.” He looks at Eggsy out of the corner of his eye. “Can I ask, that is to say,” he breathes out once, and Eggsy can see that his eyes are wet. “Did the doctors say I caused any,” his deep voice breaks and tears spill over. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his own handkerchief. “Did they say I caused any lasting damage?”

Somehow this allows Eggsy to let go of the sharpness of the anger that had burst into his chest. Seeing Harry actually contrite. No acting, not posturing, but a real emotion. “No, not at all. I’m back to perfect health, even more careful on missions since I have such a hangup about medical now.”

Harry laughs, it comes out wet and strangled. “A silver lining then.”

“A little tarnished, but I guess we can call it silver, yeah? Thank you for telling me that and even being honest enough to tell me things I didn’t know. I won't say I am over it, because I’m not. I’m not even going to say I forgive you, because I don’t, not yet. I’m still very angry, as you can see, and I still flinch when someone offers me a painkiller. But I want to forgive, and I want to let go, and I want to have you in my life in some form Harry, if you would like that as well.”

Harry looks at him, eyes red and astonished. “Oh God, Eggsy, I would like that ever so much.”

“Merlin said they’s letting you out next month, are you going?”

“I am not sure. I think I am frightened to be out there on my own, frightened that I will revert into my old ways without constant supervision.”

“You won’t know til you try, besides, I don’t plan on letting that happen, nor will Merlin. I’m back home for good, start back at the manor as Gaheris next week, and I bet they might even need a trainer or a handler there occasionally.”

“I can't face any of them after this.”

“Harry, you are Galahad the former, you can face anything. I ain’t saying it is going to be easy, because it won’t be. I think a few of them might want to get you in a dark room for a sound beating, but they have to go through me first, yeah? Cause of anyone is going to kick your arse, I think I have first dibs.”

“True.”

“You and me, we got a lot of stuff to work on, a lot of pain to hash out, but I will do it if you do.”

“Eggsy, are you saying that you want us to be together again?”

“No, I ain’t saying that, but what I am saying is that I would like us to be friends again. Take it one day at a time, yeah? I may be angry with you, Harry, fuck knows I am, but I also miss the fucking hell out of you, and Merlin, and Rox. I meant it when I said it was time to come home, and London home ain’t home unless you’re somewhere in it.”

“I am fucking sorry for all of this Eggsy.”

“I know, Harry, and I am sorry as well, for not seeing that you were nuttier than a fucking fruitcake, but we got time Harry, time to fix this. Now, I am pretty sure they are about to kick my arse out, but Merlin says he comes once a week so I was thinking I could too?”

“Yes, that would be wonderful, I would like that very much.”

 “Good.” 

“May I hug you? I understand if you say no, but I would like to if you are amenable.”

Eggsy stands and opens his arms, breathing deep as Harry walks into them and slips his arms around Eggsy’s back.

They aren’t fixed. They certainly aren’t what they used to be, and they might never be, Eggsy thinks. But they have started to heal, both themselves and each other, and to him, it's a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me through this emotional nightmare. Chapter 11 is not part of the fic. It is some personal observations on Harry and Eggsy in this fic, as well as how the fic mirrored some parts of my own life. It gets personal so it may be quite the fucking bore for you. I debated on posting it, and I may delete it later, but for now it is going up. 
> 
> I love you guys like Eggsy loves winged trainers and orange velvet.


	11. Personal Epilogue - Deleted

\- Deleted now that the fic has been up for a while - Kept the chapter for the comments left by readers -

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think. And, if you see anything I missed in the editing process (I am trying out new software and it did some _weird_ things and I do most of my writing _and_ editing when my meds have kicked in) PLEASE let me know so I can fix it. Or if there is a tag I missed, let me know that as well and I will add it.
> 
> *MWAH*
> 
> I am [ViolyntFemme](http://violyntfemme.tumblr.com) on tumblr as well.


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